There are many challenges to being a parent, not the least of which are those moments when your child does or says something that somewhere in the back of your mind, there's a niggle telling you that you really should reprimand him or her, but the rest of you is so caught up in either hilarity or admiration that you... just... can't quite manage it. Not without giving yourself away.
Or you don't know whether to scold... or applaud.
Tomorrow is the Impertinent Daughter's high school's homecoming game. For the uninitiated among you, Homecoming (and yes, it's usually capitalized like that) is usually held during football season for one specific game, and is ostensibly the game where the school's alumni is welcomed back. There is often a dance afterwards at the school gym, and a Homecoming Queen and King are elected by the students, along with their court, and theoretically at least, a good time is had by all.
There are also mums.
HERE are some examples. Originally, they were these huge, ginormous, sometimes bigger than your head chrysanthemums, with ribbons that had your name, your date's name, the year, your school name, etc. written on them. Plus, there would be ribbons with charms on them, like miniature cowbells meant to jingle sweetly as you walk, little miniature football helmets, footballs, miniature school mascots, and so on. Nowadays, the mums are artificial, mostly silk, and you only get real ones if you're willing to spend megabucks on them.
With me so far?
Okay, so... the boy responsible for
THIS got a mutual friend to ask Her Royal Impertinence to Homecoming. This friend, the Wombat (yes, that's his nickname, it's totally
my fault, and I'm just lucky he likes it), asked her and was surprised when she said, "Oh,
hell, no! no way!"
"Why not?" asked the Wombat, surprised.
She said she laughed and said, "Well, if he'd asked me face to face, instead of getting
you to ask me for him, I would have respected him a bit more while I beat him up."
I completely lost it at that point. I was laughing so hard, I nearly wrecked the car!!
Of course, the Responsible Adult inside my brain was saying something ridiculous like, "That was very rude of her, and she should
never be encouraged to beat someone up! She probably hurt that poor boy's feelings!!"
*snorts*
Fortunately, the rest of me quickly stifled the quasi-Responsible Adult, and not only died laughing again, but celebrated my daughter's independence and strength of character. She's got friends who have "dated" boys (they were only in junior high, so "dating" mainly meant they hung around together, held hands, and tried not to look too embarrassed by it), simply because the boy asked them, not because they liked them or anything. Because some of
their friends told them that having the boy ask them at all
obligated them to say yes.
Excuse me??
No, you don't have to go out with a boy just because he asked you, or because you don't want to hurt his feelings, or because you're "obligated" by his asking. You have as much right to say "No" as you do "Yes." If you don't want to go out with him, say so. If you don't like him... don't go out with him.
*rolls eyes*
Of course, once I calmed down from my laughter, I
did offer some motherly advice:
"If you're going to beat him up, dear, please don't do it on the school grounds. It might get you suspended and your father
would be inappropriately proud wouldn't be too happy about that."
The Husbandly One and I ordered mums this year. One is from us, and the other is from the Impossible Son. He gave it to her after they got home from school today. When I handed it to him, I said, "Son, you get the honor of being the first boy to give your sister a mum."
He frowned. "Is that important?"
"Yes," I said very solemnly. "It is. And it's very special, because you're her brother. You're her Knight in Shiny Armor, Protector of all Sisterly Honor, and Official Tormentor of all who come to court her. Are you ready to take up your duties, Sir Impossible?"
"I am," he said very solemnly, and then he giggled.
"Go for it," I said, and watched him give her the mum.
She was grumpy when we first got home, so I was honestly worried that she'd snarl at him when he gave it to her, but... she rose to the occasion magnificently. In fact, her whole face lit up, and she got that million megawatt smile going. She looked at it, squeed at the little soccer balls on it, then snagged him for a fierce hug and kiss on top of his fuzzy little head.
It was awesome!
Later, she cornered me in the kitchen and asked, "Mum, what do I tell my friends when they ask me who gave it to me?"
"You tell them your Little Bother gave it to you," I said with a grin, and the concern in her face just melted away.
"Yeah," she said happily. "I'll say, 'my Little Bother gave it to me, stop asking questions!' and walk away."
I laughed. "Just tell them your Little Bother gave it to you because he's cool like that."
Later, my friend, the Tall Blonde came by with the mum her papa and I are giving her (the Tall Blonde was returning a favor) and she was thrilled at the idea of having
two mums to wear for Homecoming!! I'll have to take pictures in the morning!
All of it just made me think about what a challenge it is to make sure the
little monsterskids we raise today turn out to be adults capable of making decisions and standing up for themselves while not destroying the world around them. It's a tough job. How to you balance teaching them to be polite and considerate of the feelings of others with keeping themselves safe and not letting other people treat them like door mats? How do you teach them the difference between not making a snap judgement about someone and listening to their own intuition? How do you teach them how to be constructively rude?
It's all a work in progress, really, and I'm making it up as I go along. Fortunately, neither the Impertinent Daughter nor the Impossible Son seem to be the worse for wear. At the moment, I'm just happy my girl didn't cave to the pressure of going out with someone she can't stand, just because he asked her.
It gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right.
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