The Big One is now fourteen and has almost overnight, changed from a sweet girl to a moody pain in the ass.
I'm sure it's not helping that I recently got engaged, she started her period and has discovered boys.
Welcome to the Hormone Hot Tub.
I'm sure I was the same way, maybe worse. But I have a few more tools my mother didn't, namely FaceBook and text messages.
Yes. I admit it. I check my daughter's text messages when she's in the shower. I figure I'm paying for the service, so they're my messages too. Okay. That is a stretch. So sue me.
Anyway, I haven't seen anything too shocking or insightful. Although, the other day there was a message from her BFF's BF, McLovin', asking what second base was. She had to ask another friend. I figure if neither she nor McLovin' knew what it meant, they're okay. But on the other hand, a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.
I told her she couldn't have a FaceBook account unless I was her friend, which I think is fair. Again, she's either really not getting into any trouble, or just hiding it really well.
I'll give it a couple of years, then I'll get my old sweet girl back.
Meanwhile, technology is on my side.
Monday, February 8, 2010
RIP Henry
The other morning The Little One comes downstairs in tears and yelling, "BAD BAD ALMOST FERAL CAT!"
Her fish, Henry, was floating at the bottom of the bowl. Somehow The Almost Feral Cat was responsible.
Unknown to The Little One, this was the fifth in a long line of Henrys. I hate to admit it, but I was relieved that I wouldn't have to make any more clandestine trips to the pet store and have any more secret burials in the toilet.
"Well," I began, "Henry was a good fish, and had a good life..."
Between sobs she gasped out, "That's NOT helping."
She wanted to stay home from school, but I explained that the passing of the beta did not count as a death in the family. So I took her to school and walked her into class.
The World's Best Third Grade Teacher took one look at her and knew something was up. She came over and gave The Little One a hug and said how sorry she was.
She was still upset after school, so her dad took her to the pet store.
Now she wants a bearded lizard.
Over my and Henry's dead body.
Her fish, Henry, was floating at the bottom of the bowl. Somehow The Almost Feral Cat was responsible.
Unknown to The Little One, this was the fifth in a long line of Henrys. I hate to admit it, but I was relieved that I wouldn't have to make any more clandestine trips to the pet store and have any more secret burials in the toilet.
"Well," I began, "Henry was a good fish, and had a good life..."
Between sobs she gasped out, "That's NOT helping."
She wanted to stay home from school, but I explained that the passing of the beta did not count as a death in the family. So I took her to school and walked her into class.
The World's Best Third Grade Teacher took one look at her and knew something was up. She came over and gave The Little One a hug and said how sorry she was.
She was still upset after school, so her dad took her to the pet store.
Now she wants a bearded lizard.
Over my and Henry's dead body.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)