So the other day, Blondie tells me she has a secret. Well, I can’t tolerate such a thing. I am the kind of mother that reads my kid’s journal.
I see you judging me. But goddammit. I plan to be one of the first to know when my kids start making out and using drugs.
But speaking of lying and cheating and drugs. I have a policy. When my daughters ask me about my drug use in the past I plan to look them in the eye and, without batting an eyelash, LIE. “We don’t do drugs in this family.”
But back to Blondie’s secret. She’s 10. She informs me that she has her own inner life and that there are things that are personal just to her.
What’s a mother to do?
I’m not proud but I offer her money to tell me her secret.
No, some things need to be just hers.
I offer her extra TV time. No.
I ask if she is using drugs. She’s horrified.
I ask if she is swearing on the playground. More horror.
I ask if there has been kissing going on.
She turns red and says NO. I zero in – is this about kissing?
No. Is this about a crush?
I’ll only tell you if you don’t tell Daddy.
Sorry– I may swear, drink, lie about my own drug history but I won’t keep anything from Daddy.
Eventually I wear her down. She is 10 and I am the mommy.
And I can keep a secret.