Don't Hate Her Because She's Beautiful

Introducing my 8 year-old daughter, Sara. Sweet- tempered, mild-mannered blue-eyed, freckle-faced blond with an A-line bob and emergent adult teeth that are somewhat too big for her face. It would appear that I had no genetic input whatsoever.

Two days ago, she came home from school with a ring. She told me that it was a gift from O., one of her playmate/guy-friends. "So," I said, hopefully, "friendship ring. Nice!" "Well....O. told me it's a little more than just 'friendship'." Then she actually pulled this COY look and said, "He has a matching one." Hmph.

Plot thickens. O. has a rival. Guy-friend B. presented Sara with a necklace yesterday. B. told Sarait was worth hundreds of dollars. I can see, to my relief, that it is most likely purloined from a dress-up box.

Sara tells me, with the utmost transparency and guilelessness, that she just doesn't understand why so many boys are in love with her. "I guess it's just that I'm really smart and beautiful." I choke on a bite of supper. I mutter something about how it can't be her modesty that attracts them. Her thoughts have already drifted someplace else and she doesn't hear me. I'm glad, because I suddenly regret responding at all. I thought, holy cow, here I am about to tell my daughter to be more unassuming ...and I can't.... but I should, because she comes across as being so...full of herself...but... won't she get that pounded out of her in junior high anyway? Soon enough. I regret that I can't recall ever declaring myself "really smart and beautiful".

I drop it and settle for, "There isn't any kissing going on, is there? That would not be OK." "No way, Mom. This is the only kissing going on!" And she swooped down on me and gave me a few, so, cool.