Are You A Helicopter Parent?

“Wow, is he graduating this year?”

“He picked some good schools, and he’s waiting to hear from them.”

“We’re applying to Duke, Oberlin and UVM.”

“We got in early decision to Middlebury. Our college admissions consultant was worth every penny of her $40,000 fee.”

At least once or twice a semester.

Once or twice a week.

Daily.

Several times a day — best friends have a lot to talk about.

None. Not sure I can name any of his high school friends, either.

A few.

Most of them.

All of them. Every time he mentions new acquaintances, I look them up on Facebook and send them a friend request.

Offer to stop at the liquor store to buy them a fifth of Gentleman Jack.

Tell them to make smart choices and have a good time.

Text him around midnight to see if they’re still out, and remind him that you have a breakfast date at 10 a.m.

Insist on coming along to meet some of your new Facebook friends in real life.

Let her call go to voice mail; you just talked last week.

Listen sympathetically and ask questions such as “What do you think you should do?”

Call her boss and ask her to put up a sign reminding foreign customers that they’re expected to tip.

Drive to Burlington the next night she’s working. As her customers leave, surreptitiously check to see that they’ve left a tip with their bill. If not, put some of your own cash on the table where she’ll find it.

Tell her to take the summer off. You’re only young once, right? If she can’t find a job, she can move back home.

Tell her about your friend who works there and encourage her to call him.

Call the internship supervisor and try to convince her to give your daughter a chance.

Stage an accident in their office building, threaten to sue, then offer to allow your daughter to intern as payment in lieu of monetary damages.

Remind her to take something useful, for chrissake.

Ask her what she’s planning to take.

Offer to help her with registration.

Tell her you’ll email her the schedule once you’ve finalized it with her academic adviser.

Tell him it’s not too late to drop out of school — you can still get some of your money back.

Commiserate with him and encourage him to do his best.

Call the professor and argue for a better grade.

Call the dean and accuse the professor of sabotaging your son’s success to further his elite, ultraliberal agenda.

Tell her to loosen up and tag along with her roomie once in a while.

Advise her to talk with her roommate and set some boundaries. If that doesn’t work, tell her to talk with the RA.

Call the roommate, scold her and threaten to call her parents.

Report the roommate’s underage drinking to the cops and set up a sting operation to catch her.

Remind yourself to congratulate him on graduating. That was, what, a few weeks ago?

Send him a good-luck text.

Go with him and make sure he asks all the right questions.

Go with him and record the interview using a hidden camera — it’s never too early to stockpile evidence for a wrongful-termination lawsuit.