OM-dating-G!!!

OMG!!!

There’s a boy in my house.  A real life, teenaged, red-blooded American boy.  Except he’s English.  And talks with a funny accent.  But still, he’s a boy.  And he’s here for Child One.  He’s here courting Child One.  It’s so awkward and weird and uncomfortable and I wish he would just go away.  I want Child One to be happy.  I want her to have a normal, happy, hormonal teenage-hood.  And at the same time I want this interloper out of my house.

Don’t get me wrong – he’s a perfectly nice boy.  And as boys go – as suitors go – he’s probably about as unthreatening as it gets.  He’s sweet.  He’s smart-ish.  He’s shy enough to still be polite but brave enough that he doesn’t head for the door the minute Sig Other and I come home.  But he’s a boy.  And he’s in my house.  And he likes MY Child One. 

Is it wrong that I want him to leave?  Is it wrong that I want to keep her all to myself?  Is it weird that I don’t mind the idea of her dating but hate the reality of it?  I doubt they’ve kissed.  I’m not even sure they’ve held hands.  But Child Two caught them almost snuggling on the couch and called us twice in the middle of our dinner party to give us the full report as only a good little spy can.  Child Two is quite pleased with his role as lead spy and interrogator.  He’s not particularly articulate in his descriptions, but we feel sure that he is reporting the headlines as they happen.  And there is, so far at least, precious little to report. 

OMG – is this what my mother felt like when I was a teenaged girl with an inappropriate boyfriend?  Am I finally getting a taste of what she must have experienced when my tow-headed, pot smoking English beau came around?  Is there nothing I can do to liberate myself from emotions I know are old-fashioned and concerns that are unfounded?  Maybe.  But I still want that boy out of my house.  I still want Child One to revert to her plump, curly-haired little ten-year-old self.  I still wish I didn’t have to deal with the sexualized, sensualized, romantic future of my glorious, girly, gifted and perpetually gorgeous Child One.