Life with a teenage daughter - Changes in the Kingdom

Watercolour by L. Wilks

When our daughter was sixteen, life as we knew it changed forever in our household. What happened? What calamity befell us? Was there a death? Did someone lose their job? Was the dog pregnant?

Nothing that minor!

Once upon a time our teenage daughter had been a free spirit, a golden haired princess who ran to meet us when we came home, who asked if we wanted a cuppa, who usually needed to be driven somewhere. Suddenly she had this large growth on her side. It was called ‘a boyfriend’.

It was quiet romantic really. He saw her across a crowded basketball stadium and sent a go-between to ask her to meet him in the foyer at half time. Introductions were made. Phone numbers exchanged. Calls were made. He became a fixture.

He was a nice enough guy. Tall. Handsome. Courteous. (Or was I just being suspicious?)

It seems our Little Princess had grown up. She was spending large amounts of time preening in front of the mirror, talking on the phone and watching TV romances.

She had developed an interest in things that she wouldn’t give two minutes to some month earlier. Films that HE liked. Food that HE liked. Books that HE liked. (Well, there had to be some side benefits!)

As her parents, we adjusted. We learned to share. We’d always thought our daughter was beautiful, but it’s different when someone else thinks it. Apart from sharing our daughter with a boy we hardly knew, we had to share our home with the enormous fluffy toy he gave her on Valentine’s Day. It usually sat on her bed, but could be found abandoned anywhere about the house. At least it didn’t require feeding like her other pets that looked at me pathetically wondering where all her hugs and kisses had gone.

What were we supposed do?

What did my parents do? My Mum had interrogated all boys on their family history, when they crossed our front doorstep. The bare light globe often blinded them because they groped around a lot afterwards.

My Dad used to called every boy I brought home, ‘George’. On one memorable occasion, Dad hosed down a boy as he attempted the journey to the front door. Dad said he was just watering the garden. Yeah, Right!

As modern parents we were not going to be like that.

We’d play it cool. We wouldn’t play our hand too early. If we approved we’d be pushy. If we disapproved we’d drive her further into his arms.

We didn’t want to be the overprotective, nervous wrecks our parents were, when we were her age. We would do the modern thing. We would remain calm. If we took enough sleeping tablets we could just about get to sleep while we waited for her to get home. Almost!

She played it by the book. She even arranged the formal introduction. ‘Mum, Dad, this is Prince Charming. Prince Charming, this is Mum and Dad.’

Before this momentous occasion we were told firmly not to ask him too many questions. We stood like cardboard cut-out parents wondering what this boy wanted to do when he grew up, what subjects he liked at school, what footy team he supported. (That’s an important question in our home.)

These questions and a thousand more had to wait. The Princess had spoken.

After the first date I asked her if he’d kissed her. Did she like it?

She looked at me shocked. ‘It’s just too weird to talk to you about that. You’re an parent!’

What happened to all those parenting courses, those family round table discussions, those girl-to-girl chats we’d had? Had they amounted to nothing? Were these topics we would never discuss again?

It’s not that we didn’t trust The Princess. We trusted her with our lives. We could endure anything after her first driving lesson. It’s all that male testosterone we were worried about. Were all his gifts and attention aimed at a payoff? Where could we get a good sequined chastity belt for the Modern Miss?

Then I thought about his mum. Was she his taxi service, as we were hers? Did she deliver her son to our Den of Seduction and hope this Teenage Temptress would not lead her Charming Prince astray? Princes need to study too, you know.

I remembered some of the things I did when I was her age that my Mum and Dad didn’t know about. Then I really was worried. Should I suggest that my husband water the garden on date night?

I shoved that enormous fluffy animal to the back of her wardrobe. I hoped the tiara wasn’t too uncomfortable for him.

Years have passed. Prince Charming has moved on. The large fluffy toy departed during a garage sale.

A King of Hearts entered the Princess’s life and stole her heart.

As her parents, we have learned to share our beautiful daughter with a man who she loves, and who loves her. And delight, delight! The girl-to-girl chats have returned, but they are Woman-to-Woman chats now. She now thinks of her parents as more than chauffeurs and financiers.  The fluffy toy dog has been replaced with a breathing menagerie. The Princess has grown up. She is a Queen of Hearts.