Thursday, August 2, 2007
"I have a question. Don't read too much into it." Ok, that coming from my 15 year old is a reason enough to panic in itself.
"How old were you when you got your first kiss?" She would have to ask that question. "I think I was 50, honey."
"You aren't 50 yet, Mom." Should I tell her that I smoked pot with her pediatrician behind the youth group bus on the way to camp when we were 16? No, it's probably not useful information to her.
I sigh heavily, "I was 12."
"Yeah, 12. I was stupid and under a lot of peer pressure to act older than I was. The guy was a jerk, and probably doesn't even remember my name. I kissed a whole lot of jerks." I bite my tongue to keep from saying "your father was one of them."
"You were 12! OK, then I'm not so bad then."
"Did Nick kiss you today?" She giggles and sits up. I give her my best parental warning look. "Are you going to tell me about it?"
"We were coming off the Batman ride."
"And holding hands." I interrupt.
"Yeah, and I thought that he was leaning over just to tell me something." she giggles again. She's obviously happy about this. "Then suddenly he was kissing me."
"Did you kiss him back?"
"Well, I had too. It was the only way to recover."
She had better not ever ask me when I lost my virgininity!