She knew the answer. Still, she had to ask.
Pushing the envelope is her thing.
Can we hang out in my room?
“We” are she and the new beau.
The response comes unapologetically.
No. (Just) no.
Common areas only.
My smiling eyes intend to soften her disappointment.
It doesn’t matter if she’s old enough to buy her own beer.
It only matters that we, her parents, live our convictions.
After all, she lives at home with us when not in school.
Call us crazy. Call us old-fashioned.
Principle, a small great matter of dignity and respect, is non-negotiable.
The world may call us whatever it wishes.
Being prophets of reasonable boundaries isn’t easy.
When has parenting ever been easy?
I think you know the answer.