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Talk to the Hand

By Gwen Morrison

Pages:  1  2  

"I hate you!"
"Whatever!"
"Like, ask me if I care."

Anyone who has raised or is raising a teenage daughter has probably heard these phrases. I have three sons and one daughter, and I have always said that the three boys put together are no match for her. She pushes every button I have. She finds buttons that I never knew existed.

The "talk to the hand" attitude, the hand on the hip, the rolling eyes, the head flipping and that nose to the ceiling motion are all a part of her everyday mannerisms. Some days I could scream, and other days, I look into her beautiful face and I see this woman emerging. That mother-daughter myth must have some validity because whatever I say, she says the opposite. Conversations can be tricky. I have to wait for the right moment, crackling over those eggshells to make sure that what I say will be taken the right way. You might say she is a little sensitive.

Teenage boys are good to their moms, and teenage girls can be, too -- when they want something. I can sense a scam a mile away -- having four children will give you this gift -- and my daughter is the master at attempting to fool me. The fact that she rarely gets away with it is no deterrent to her plots and plans. When she wants something, the sweetness that pours out of her is sickening; The girl really talks it up when she needs to. She usually begins by asking me if I got a new outfit, or by telling me how pretty I look. Even after all these years, she still thinks I won't catch on. I just smile, fold my arms and wait for it.

Pages:  1  2  


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