My 14-year-old daughter is dating a very well-mannered boy her age. He comes over every Sunday and spends the entire day in her room with the door closed.
While I trust them, a wave of parental anxiety eventually hit me one Sunday. The thought, "What if they're in there making their own kids?!" sent me rushing to her door.
I swung it open to find the lamp dimmed and the scene nothing like I had imagined. The two were sitting on the floor, surrounded by textbooks, highlighters, and sticky notes. A plate of cookies I had left for them sat ignored. My daughter, wearing headphones, was completely absorbed in patiently explaining math formulas to him. He sat beside her, notebook open, scratching his head in frustration.
When they noticed me standing there, they looked startled. My daughter took off her headphones and asked softly, "Mom, is everything okay?"
I was frozen in the doorway, utterly embarrassed by the assumptions that had raced through my mind just moments before.
