How have I survived 39 years of life without the guiding aid of my 14 year old daughter?
Somehow she has formed this notion in her head that it is suddenly her responsibility to rescue me. Otherwise I will most certainly embarrass myself in every situation. Every place we go. And then I will embarrass her, especially if her peeps from school might be around.
Which brings me to her latest rescue attempt. I will be teaching some classes at Hope's school this week. So, she has developed a sudden urgency to train me in all things cool. Otherwise I just might kill her whole high school career with the few hours I'll be spending standing in front of her class.
Here is Hope's advice with my response in parenthesis.
* Wear your cool jeans.
(I wear jeans to be comfortable not cool. And I'm not sure that is the most professional look for my brief high school teaching job.)
* If I give you this look it means stop doing whatever you were just doing.
(Thank goodness Hope will be there to monitor my every move. And to think I've been standing in front of audiences all these years without her sitting in the front row. Teaching none the less. Without her cues. Sakes alive.)
* Please don't talk to us like we are little kids. We are very grown up highschoolers.
(Yes, so grown up that you still care about whether or not people think your mother is cool.)
* Don't give homework or schedule a test.
(Ummm... I am teaching about Spiritual Gifts and I'm actually giving you a Spiritual Gifts Test with the first lesson. Bummer.)
* Please don't use the word cool.
(Hunh? I am supposed to be cool but not say the word cool. Very interesting. Especially in light of the fact that I have reached an age where I could care less about my coolness factor.)
I love you sweet Hope. We will survive. As a matter of fact, I feel so tempted to bust out in that Gloria Gaynor song. And I can throw in some pretty bad mama jama dance moves as well.
Come on... you know you think that would be very cool.
Somehow she has formed this notion in her head that it is suddenly her responsibility to rescue me. Otherwise I will most certainly embarrass myself in every situation. Every place we go. And then I will embarrass her, especially if her peeps from school might be around.
Which brings me to her latest rescue attempt. I will be teaching some classes at Hope's school this week. So, she has developed a sudden urgency to train me in all things cool. Otherwise I just might kill her whole high school career with the few hours I'll be spending standing in front of her class.
Here is Hope's advice with my response in parenthesis.
* Wear your cool jeans.
(I wear jeans to be comfortable not cool. And I'm not sure that is the most professional look for my brief high school teaching job.)
* If I give you this look it means stop doing whatever you were just doing.
(Thank goodness Hope will be there to monitor my every move. And to think I've been standing in front of audiences all these years without her sitting in the front row. Teaching none the less. Without her cues. Sakes alive.)
* Please don't talk to us like we are little kids. We are very grown up highschoolers.
(Yes, so grown up that you still care about whether or not people think your mother is cool.)
* Don't give homework or schedule a test.
(Ummm... I am teaching about Spiritual Gifts and I'm actually giving you a Spiritual Gifts Test with the first lesson. Bummer.)
* Please don't use the word cool.
(Hunh? I am supposed to be cool but not say the word cool. Very interesting. Especially in light of the fact that I have reached an age where I could care less about my coolness factor.)
I love you sweet Hope. We will survive. As a matter of fact, I feel so tempted to bust out in that Gloria Gaynor song. And I can throw in some pretty bad mama jama dance moves as well.
Come on... you know you think that would be very cool.
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