My Daughter Would Kill Me...

...for telling you all this. But I can't resist.

My daughter-- who is a beautiful, snarky, creative and scary-intelligent girl who has a black and white view of what’s right and wrong in the world and definite ideas about how to fix it all-- turned fifteen on Monday.

Fifteen. That’s unbelievable to me. Partly because I’m her mother and that’s how I’m supposed to feel, right? But also because I think of her either as a little girl—like when we’re giggling over silly videos on YouTube or watching our favorite Disney movies together or making cookies and eating more batter than we bake—or I think of her as an adult because, to listen to her talk about world events, politics, history and sociology you would swear she was thirty.

But she’s fifteen. No question. I know because something so typically fifteen-year-old-girl happened to her the other day that my heart actually hurt.

And the story starts with three words you are probably all expecting now: There’s this boy.

Of course. All the “best” teenage girl stories start with that, right?

Well, there’s this boy. He’s been her friend for two years. And I mean, truly a friend. They text late at night, they let each other read their short stories (they’re both writers) and spend hours sending each other song suggestions on YouTube for obscure bands that they both follow. But he’s always been just a friend. And apparently as happy with that as she is.

But… well, you guessed it. The other day he told her that he wants to be more than friends.

Now, to his credit, he was smooth about it. And to her credit, she handled it well. But unfortunately, she doesn’t feel that way about him and she was quite upset… worried about losing the friendship, hurting his feelings and being awkward around each other.

She said he was okay with her saying that she’s not ready for a boyfriend right now. I thought that was a good, and honest, answer and should make everything fine. This way it’s not about him, it’s about her.

(which reminds me of one of my favorite Seinfeld moments. George's it's not you, it's me :))

Anyway, I decided to ask hubby for his opinion. His reaction was “he’s crushed”. I said, “no, she made sure he knew it wasn’t about him.” Hubby shook his head and said, “Doesn’t matter. He’s crushed. Nothing she can do about it.”

Ugh.

Then the guy bought her a birthday present. A beautiful leather journal with music notes all over it. I’m telling you, it’s classy. I told her she should rethink the boyfriend thing with that.

Anyway, they’re working through it and, so far anyway, preserving their friendship.

But…of course, my romance writer mind has taken this and wondered if she won’t someday look at him and think “when did he get hot?”

I do so love friends to lovers stories. *Love* them. Hubby and I are living one right in front of her, in fact *g*.

So if it happens to her it will be wonderful.

As long as it’s not before she’s about thirty.