Dearest P,
I’d love to inquire about preparations for your upcoming holiday but it seems I once again face the troubling prospect of being forced to parent my cherubs. Eldest daughter, a mere maiden, seems to have found herself a suitor at the tender age of 9. He’s already a solid ten (and counting) with a voice suggesting puberty is hard at work. At daughter’s pleading request, we had him over for the requisite playdate, during which I allowed neither. It was still depressing to watch the young stud pepper my own mini me with his clearly superior homework wisdom. Is it possible, dearest P, that she’s already learned, in a misguided application of guidance from her loving mother, when to let this species think they’re smarter?
In any case, my experienced friend, I seek your wise counsel about when it is necessary to ask the delicate question every mother must one day confront: does he have a trust fund? Must run now as my cherubs’ headmistress has invited me for lunch today. I think we’re really connecting. Oh, and if dearest daughter needs to discuss the messy business of anything sexual, I’ll send her your way as surely your own quite youthful loss of innocence and sheer number of lovers makes you more qualified to advise her appropriately.
Faithfully,
C.
