Not a baby
FATHER: What are you going to do this evening, Jill?
Jill: I'm going to meet some friends, Dad.
FATHER: You mustn't come home late. You must be home at half past ten.
Jill: I can’t get home so early, Dad.
Can I have the key to the front door, please?
FATHER: NO, you can't.
MOTHER: Jill's eighteen years old, Tom. She's not a baby. Give her the key. She always comes home early.
FATHER: Oh, all right!
FATHER: Here you are. But you mustn't come home after a quarter past eleven. Do you hear?
Jill: Yes, Dad.
MOTHER: That's all right. Goodbye. Enjoy yourself!
Jill: We always enjoy ourselves, Mum. Bye, bye.