My oldest is 18 and while most of his friends are preparing to leave for college or have already left, Danny is still at home. He was accepted into the Rouse Scholar Program and will attend Howard Community College for the next two years.

While I know he is eager to break free and be independent, I feel as though I’ve gotten a reprieve. He may be ready to let go, but I’m sure not.

Which is why I had to laugh when I read this story about parents who deliver their kids to their college dorms, but then can’t seem to leave. Some colleges are starting to take drastic measures to get parents out in a timely manner so freshmen can get settled.

Yes, I know. I’m laughing now. In two years, it might not be so funny…

Jonah’s best friend at the beach is not who you might expect. His favorite person to play with is not one of the other little boys his age — though he does have a few he pals around with — but a 40-year-old man named Mr. Matt.

Mr. Matt is a friend of ours who doesn’t have to be asked twice to play.

He will bury Jonah and decorate him like a muscled Merman, and then do it again and again and again.

He will walk up and down the beach helping Jonah find moon jellies or head to the rocks with him to hunt for crabs.

When they get tired, Jonah will climb into Mr. Matt’s lap and the two will talk about Jonah’s favorite topic — animals.

Mr. Matt has his own son who is now 13, but he still finds time every year to play with Jonah. And Jonah loves him like a best buddy.

My 9-year-old son has had his first encounter with mean kids this vacation.

There are a couple of boys he’s played with in the past but, for whatever reason, are not being nice this year. For the most part, Adam seems to have sensed their unfriendliness and has avoided them. He’s found some other kids on the beach to pal around with. But occasionally, when they aren’t around, he will approach the unfriendly kids.

Until the other day, he hadn’t mentioned any of this to me. I’ve just perceived it from watching him and watching them: Adam will approach them as they are building a sand castle. No one says a word to him. He walks away.

But the other day, he came back from playing on the rocks with these boys and he looked upset. Apparently, they made fun of him because he wasn’t wearing Under Armor compression shorts under his bathing suit. Come again?

As a mom, I wanted to storm off down the beach and give these boys a piece of my mind, but I knew that wouldn’t help. It would only make matters worse for Adam. So instead, I told him they weren’t worth playing with and to avoid them. Luckily he has found other friends and seems to have brushed off the incident.

But I’m still fuming.

This blog was written by 9-year-old Rosalie Clemens, who recently spent the day at work with her mom, Co-Editor Cheryl Clemens:

I got to go to work with Mom today so I didn’t have to stay at home again with my annoying brother, Danny.

I like this building where Mom works because the outside has a cool shape. It has a big slant in the front. (Editor’s note: She’s referring to the unique shape of the Columbia Flier Building.)

Sometimes I help Mom straighten up her office or sort papers, but today I just brought a book and my Nintendo DS. The book I’m reading is “Into the Wild.” It’s the first book in the “Warriors” saga about wild cats. I got the series for my birthday and I like it so far. There are a bunch of things going on and a lot of different characters.

My favorite DS games lately have been ScribbleNauts, Bunnyz and Tinkerbell and The Lost Treasure. In the Tinkerbell game, you get to be a fairy and that’s fun, and in Bunnyz, you get to take care of your own bunny. I would recommend them for other 9-year-old girls.

The best part about coming to work is I get to be alone with my Mom and her work friends. I get a lot of attention and my mom buys me snacks out of the machine.

I don’t think I want to make magazines when I grow up. Drawing is more my thing. When I grow up, I want to be an artist and illustrate books.

As I mentioned in my last blog, my oldest daughter is in theater camp this week in Rhode Island where we are on vacation. The camp is hugely popular and hard to get into, so my younger daughter did not get in this year — much to her major disappointment.

To make it easier on Lilly, I’ve been trying to come up with fun things for her and Adam to do in the evenings during theater camp. We’ve gone out for ice cream, they’ve gone to Bingo at the Yacht Club (where they both won) and they had a private surfing lesson from the life guards. The lesson was such a hit, it definitely took the edge off of missing theater camp.

Meanwhile, my older daughter has taken notice of all the activities going on while she’s at camp. When she heard about the surf lesson, her eyes got big and she had to swallow the words I knew so wanted to pop out of her mouth: “Why do they get surfing lessons?”

When she heard that Pop Pop had treated to ice cream, she wanted to know why she had to pay for her own ice cream when she went with her friends.

“It’s not fair,” she said. But when asked if she would have rather missed theater camp to take surfing lessons or be treated to ice cream — everything settled back into perspective.

She is loving theater camp. She’s made tons of friends and is excited for Friday’s final production.

But she’d rather have her cake and eat it too. Wouldn’t we all?

This blog was written by my co-editor Cheryl Clemens:

Oh Lord do I need someone to talk to.

I have a 15-year-old daughter and no one in the same boat to talk to. Sadly, I’m just not that close to the mothers of my daughter’s friends. We’re acquaintances, but not in a way that we can confide in, complain to and commiserate with.

Don’t get me wrong — my daughter is an honors student who plays in the band and is a member of the volleyball and track teams. She babysits in the neighborhood and never has a shortage of things to do and friends to do them with.

She’s a great kid, but that doesn’t mean she’s easy to live with.

We’re at a phase now where Dad can do no wrong and I can do no right. Sometimes she is an absolute joy to be around, and 10 minutes later she’s snapping at her little sister and refuses to answer me in anything but one-syllable words. I can tell her I like her sandals, and she’ll roll her eyes at me and walk away, then she comes back in the room an hour later all smiles insisting she wants to make dinner for the family that night.

Yes, yes, I know she is an unpredictable teenager. I know I should be thankful she is a good kid with horrible moments and not the other way around. Look, I don’t want to change her — I just want someone to blow off steam with. I want someone I can call or e-mail who is going through the same thing and will understand what I’m talking about and why I’m feeling the way I am.

What I’m looking for is a mother of a 15 year old girl who will talk openly with me about how hard it can be to live in the same house with her. (And please don’t ask why I don’t just share with my husband. He is a man and a father. He has no clue what it’s like to be a mom, just like I don’t know what it’s like to be a dad.)

So please, if you see yourself in this blog and are looking for someone to commiserate with, encourage and laugh with, shoot me an e-mail at cclemens@patuxent.com.

And please feel free to pass this along.

I didn’t expect to have to be setting a curfew this soon. My oldest is only 11 for goodness sake.  But here we are on vacation in a small community in Rhode Island with my sister and her family. My oldest and her youngest are involved in a theater camp that runs from 4:30 to 7:30 p.m. every evening and after, they’ve been going out with their friends. Not really going out out, but more going over to their friends houses, or going to the beach or playing flash light tag. But out enough that they need to be told what time to come home.

This has posed and interesting dilemma between my sister and I. She has older children — one who is almost 20 and the other nearly 18. So for her, it’s really no big deal to send her youngest out for an evening of good, clean fun. To her, 9:30 or 10 p.m. seems like a reasonable curfew. But to me, that seems late, really late — especially since Maggie hasn’t yet learned the art of sleeping in.

But they are same-age cousins so it doesn’t seem right to make my daughter come home earlier — especially since they are out on bikes and it’s dark. There’s safety in numbers and all that.

So we’ve compromised on 9:15 for most nights. It seems to be working unless a special event — like the movie held on the beach the other night — comes up. Then there are exceptions.

But meanwhile, I’m at loose ends come around 8:30 p.m. when I’m used to getting everyone in bed and lavishing in the peace. And I miss having my little girl will me all the time.

This is from guest blogger Siobhan O’Boyle, a school librarian, mother of a second grader and avid reader:

I was in Barnes & Noble the other day for about a half hour, and I must have heard those two dreaded words at least three times. That’s right…”summer reading!”  The note of controlled panic in one mom’s voice could not be missed as she struggled to discern whether a book existed (and was available for purchase) called simply “Frog and Toad.”

What was an option in June, and a possibility in July, has now become a task in August.  The number of books or chapters still to be read has been doled out across the August calendar. We love to read in our house, and our son is a good reader, but there is something about a requirement that turns what should be a pleasant part of the day into a power struggle. So I resort to deception and bribes.

Most authors these days have Web sites which feature interviews and information so I use the pull of the almighty computer to pique his interest. We listen to audio books and playaways we get from the library in the car, at lunch, whenever I can pry the DS from his hands. Speaking of the library, there’s a cool function on the Baltimore County Public Library catalog called “More titles like this” where you can look up a book that your child liked and click a feature on the right when you get into the book’s page.  It’s a great way to find similar books. If you liked, for example, “Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH” you might enjoy the “Gregor the Overlander” series by Suzanne Collins. It offers you concrete suggestions like that.

So, good luck with summer reading. I’m with you as I too search for the secret to making summer reading less of a chore and more of a pleasure.

Would you like to be a guest blogger? If so, send a sample blog to cclemens@patuxent.com.

This blog is one is an occasional series by Harford Magazine Editor Jennifer K. Dansicker:

Well, the Dansicker chickens have finally moved from their cozy little garage cage to the backyard chicken coop. Ally, Bella and Strike are growing strong and beautifully. At just seven weeks old, these little feathery friends look like full grown chickens with just a hint of their yellow peach fuzz around the top of their heads. It’s truly amazing to watch how quickly they grow.

I have to be honest, and I can’t believe I am about to say this, but, these chicks have been one of the best pet experiences of my life. These cute little lovable chicks grow from week to week without much incident or chaos. We keep their bedding neat and clean and we change their food and water once a week. Other than happily chasing them around the yard for an hour or so a day, there isn’t much more you have to do to keep them thriving.

Chickens work for me, I think, because they have been surprisingly so low maintenance. They give me and my family great joy at the same time, whether it is seeing them fly from the top of the coop to a branch in our backyard tree or pecking away at a slice of watermelon, they have provided such wonderment to our daily lives….it’s refreshing.

So, now the chickens will remain in their backyard coop for the rest of their days. In the fall, when they have matured to several months old, they will begin to lay eggs every day. Based on an average account, egg laying chickens will provide freshly laid eggs for approximately two years. I cannot wait to see the look on my little Henry’s face when he sees that first egg.

I am looking forward to the new and exciting developments, and I hope you don’t mind me bringing you along for the ride!

There’s nothing like waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the cat chasing something.

A couple of weeks ago, the cat woke me up running up and down the hall at 3:30 in the morning. When I peaked out of my room, I saw the shadow of something gliding soundlessly up and down the hallway above my head. It wasn’t until my husband shined a flashlight on it that it sunk it what it was. A bat. Yikes!

In the 12 years we’ve lived in this house we’ve never laid eyes on a bat, so this was a big surprise. Neither of us knew exactly what to do and there was a bit of panic setting in. With the help of a tennis racket, we solved the problem and went back to bed. But not before the girls came out of their room wondering what was going on.

The next night, Chris promised Lilly that there was no way another bat would come into the house. But he was wrong. Around 11:30 p.m., the cat was after something at our bedroom window. Chris thought it was a bug and told me not to turn on the light but at closer inspection — he declared it another bat. Luckily, it was in the window well — so we just shut the window and trapped it between the window and the screen until the morning when we set it free.

We haven’t seen another bat since, but I’m always a little uneasy when the cat jumps off the bed in the middle of the night now. I hope out bat nightmares are over, but I don’t think we could be so lucky in a 100 year old house.