WHO’S CALLING THE SHOTS?

HAVE COME SKEET shooting to escape worrying about my daughter, who is 2,000 miles away and—because she is 19 and because she is my daughter—trying to kill me. Emma insists she’s an adult. But an adult who thinks caramel macchiatos are a food group, wants me to let her “sculpt” my eyebrows, and would prefer that I walk behind her in public. After a great summer job as a wrangler in Utah last year, she came home brimming with confidence and maturity. That lasted two weeks. She hasn’t worked in