“Mommy, how old do you need to be to date?” my seven-year-old asked last night.
Pause. Think. Tread lightly, I think to myself. Pull out teacher stall tactic. “How old do YOU think you need to be to date?” I volleyed back. “Probably like 16.” “Hmmm. That seems like maybe a good age. I guess it depends on why you think people date…” I trail off, leaving the comment open ended. His brow furrows. “Probably because you like someone. And want to spend time with them,” he replies. “That makes sense. I think that most people date because they like the other person and that’s all. I think most older people maybe date because they’re trying to see if they might want to marry someone. But you don’t really know what you would like in a husband or wife until you’re older and are thinking more about your grown up life.” There’s a drawn-out silence. “Whoops! Forgot I have to go get Lucas from Papi upstairs. I’ll be back!” I head toward the stairs, pause, and look back. “I’m glad you asked me that.” Several minutes later, I return, Lucas in tow. “Mommy? Thanks for talking to me about that.” “Anytime, Bud. You can always ask me anything.” I turn away and smile. Parenting is hard. As everyone says, there’s no guidebook. They don’t teach you how to navigate certain situations or questions like these. Questions float through your mind. When do we have ____ talk? What age is too young? Too old? How detailed do you get? And often, you have no idea if the route you chose to take was right. Tonight, I think I got it right.
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March 2022
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