DDG, your post reminded me of something.
One day shortly after we had brought our daughter home from the hosital, my then-husband found me rocking the baby and crying. He asked me what on earth was wrong. I said “One day she’s gonna grow up and some MAN is gonna take her away from me !!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhh!”
And she wasn’t even a week old yet 
Your mother is still going to wake up in the middle of the night wondering if you’re messing about in the utility closet in your dorm…
So don’t.
((ivylass))
My oldest kid is 15, and I’m just starting to realize that this is going to happen to me one day too! I don’t think I’m going to deal with it very well. Just reading this makes me want to go home and pester them. 
After hearing SiL and SiL’sMom complain about The Nephew not being a baby anymore (he’s an absolutely cute toddler now, excuse me while I wipe the drool off), Mom’s remark was “if they think he’s too old now, what will they say when he’s fifteen and wanting to come home after breakfast on Saturday nights? And let me tell you, that will sure come along real fast!”
In Spain we don’t have graduation ceremonies, but coming out of that last exam (among the earliest ones, as usual) and looking at my classmates’ bent heads was one of the strangest feelings of my life… it felt like stepping off the plank high above the pool without knowing for sure whether that water shining prettily down below was actually deep enough to jump into.
How does my mother stand back? Badly. But I got a clue by four marked, on one side, “it’s my house,” on another “it’s my life,” on another “it’s my job” and on another “yo, give me a break!”
And I’m thirty-freaking-nine.