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I had a date with my eleven year old yesterday.  We went shopping and had dinner and as us parents tend to do, I fumbled around…trying to find common ground to connect in.

It is getting tougher each day.

I thought, having all these dang girls, it would be easy to connect to them.  You know, cause I am a girl?

Ya, no.

Matter of fact, I probably connect better with my seventeen year old son.  Though he and I struggle too.

Something about us parents getting stupid as we get older.  Something like that.

I also struggle with what is appropriate at what age.  Like what movies should my kids watch (the rating system does nothing for me really).  What books should they read.  When does the curfew change (or hell when do I even let them leave out of my sight with friends).  When to have THE TALK.

So….I wing it.

Completely.

Good thing none of my friends ask me for advice about raising kids and such.  The conversation would probably look something like this;

“Shannon, what age do you think it is a good idea for kiddo’s to start dating?”

“I dunno.  What does google say? Oh and can you ask my three-year old to hand me my glass of wine please?”

My kids are not sheltered by any means (goodness..it is ME that is their parent so sheltered is not a category they fall into), but I don’t want them to be overly bombarded with some of the mature things in life too early either.

Yesterday, while shopping, I tried on this sliver sparkly dress.

Dumb.

When I took it off, sparkles went EVERYWHERE.

sparkles2 sparklesI STILL have sparkles in my hair, after washing it, twice.

While standing in the fitting room, I mumbled out loud, “Great, I look like a dancer”.

“I know what kind of dancer you mean” my eleven year old says.

I turned my head sharply toward her, but played it cool….

“Oh ya, what kind?”

“The casino kind”. She smartly says.

“Ya baby, that is the kind I was thinking of.”

Cheers!