My daughter is a little gray on her post-high school plans and she is a little fuzzy on her post-16th birthday employment. She's even a bit hazy on my plan that she will mow the lawn next summer. But say, "Pricilla of Boston" or "Vera Wang" and her eyes light up (they don't really smoke; I was just trying to use a cliche'.)
We sit there, night after night, while she says, "I love that dress," and I reply, "But how long will it take YOU to save that much money? Is it worth it? Maybe we should finally go to Disney World instead?"
She has yet to own up to having a boyfriend (we're okay with no boyfriend) or even a first kiss (we're even better with no kisses) and she is hurt that all the boys notice her friends, but don't seem to notice her so much (that hurt makes me a little sad; Checkered is surprisingly OKAY with it.)
I know there are so many joys, so many heartbreaks, so many dreams still ahead of her. And when those joys, those heartbreaks, and those dreams get a little more real, it will probably be her girlfriends who hear about them first.
So tonight, she and I will be cuddled up on my bed: I'll be annoyed because she ate something crumbly in there, and she'll laugh every single time she realizes that she has again forgotten to fast-forward through the commercials. She will find the perfect $10,000 dress for herself and I'll remind her that her dad has become an expert at sewing on Scout badges. There's no telling what he could whip-up by the time she's grown.