In some families, the magic number is 3.  You know, "I'm going to count to three!!!!  One----- two---- two and a half--- two and ... THREE"  That would never work in our house.  In our house it would have been more like.  "Do it.   Negative one.. BUSTED!" 

However, we had a "Magic Number" too, or rather, mom did.  Sometime around the age of twelve or so onward, mom did it the first time.  I have no idea what prompted it.  Maybe I spilled something on an day that was already a "Jonah Day".  Maybe I was skirting the line of being out of line.  Maybe mom had PMS or maybe I did.  Whatever it was, I didn't do anything wrong per se, but mom wanted to point out that she was annoyed.  Now later, it wasn't always me.  It could be the loud music next door, the car acting up, or a cold.  Therefore, it is always possible that the first time wasn't my fault either.  I like to cling to that.

Regardless of the reason, something happened, and I heard the boom lowered for the first time.  "You're grounded until you're thirty-seven."  Okkkkaaayyy.  I know I looked at her weird.  I bet her eyes twinkled.  Just saying it put her in a better mood.  Mom has marvelous twinkly eyes when tickled. 

After that, it happened semi-regularly.  I forgot to get a homework slip signed, needed a ride to something at church, or asked for sourdough toast after dinner.  Didn't matter what it was, mom's eyes would twinkle- or if in a rare bad mood, snap- and she'd say, "You are grounded until you're thirty-seven."  If I was Gracie Allen I would have filled it in for her after the second or third time  "...till you're thirty-seven, yeah."  I wasn't Gracie Allen and knew I'd be in for real trouble if I dared to do such a thing.

It became a tradition.  The last time I remember her saying it was when I was in labor.   As Polly helped me into the car, mom leaned in and said with that trademarked glint in her eye, "If you have that baby before you get to the hospital I'll ground you 'till you're thirty-seven."

I turned thirty-seven this year.  I feel free!  I'm finally an adult.  I know the law said I was at eighteen.  Logic says I was when I got married or had a child or two, or four, or eight, or nine.... but how can you truly be an adult if you're still on restriction?  I say you can't. 

Mom... guess what?  I'm not grounded anymore.  Do you regret not grounding me until I was thirty-eight?