Ten straight years of being a teenager, almost over. The clock is running out on the last of them — once it hits zero he's into a whole new decade of bad decisions, and nobody's calling it "a phase" anymore.
That's it. Ten years of teenager, done. Officially into a new decade, and the bad decisions from here on out are entirely his own.
No party. Gifts not required, but Zelle preferred. Just text the man. He will absolutely see it.