Growing up is hard

Last week I had the first inkling of the different kind of issues my children will be facing now that they are nearing the double digits (or at least the first one is).

Yes, the hate letter. That little emissary of girl on girl power struggle, that tiny token of jealousy and cruelty. Although what my daughter received could not be so much called a hate letter, but one of those, “if you don’t stop (fill in the blank) we won’t be your friend anymore” letter. In fact, the exact words used were, “on a plus d’amour pour toi.”

That packs quite a punch, n’est-ce pas? Now, my first reaction? Hug her until she is 22 and all females her age have reached the age of reason. Second reaction? Phone up the girls and their mothers and give them a severe talking to.

What did I do? Nothing. Why? Because all she wanted was somebody to listen. To get it out and in getting it out, deal with it in her own way. And because this was one of those hard times where she had to figure this out on her own. I did of course hug her until Tuesday, and tell her that she had done nothing wrong and that real friends do not make ultimatums (which I am sure was not that helpful- obviously her friends make ultimatums) but that was it. I don’t know if she has talked to the girls in question, or if it is continuing. All I know is that I have to keep my mouth shut so that I don’t make it a bigger deal than it is, and that I have to let her come to me.

This is the hardest part of being a parent- consciously doing nothing.