I’m one of those moms – the ones who search their teens’ rooms and eavesdrop on conversations. All for the greater good, of course; I’ve never searched a room without probable cause and I only eavesdrop when I have a reason to be concerned. Which is, well, most of the time. 

Last night I overheard part of a conversation from Little One’s room that had me pretty worried. I couldn’t hear it all, but the bits I did hear made me more and more upset. 

“Believe me, I’m over all that…that part of my life is done…”

(What part?!)

(Inching closer while trying to avoid the squeaky floorboard…)

“I’m not that person anymore…”

(Which person?)

“I know I’ve made mistakes before but I’m taking care of them…”

(What mistakes? Where? What are you doing about them?)

“I know, but that part of my life is changed…maybe you don’t believe me…what do I have to do?”

(Oh Good Lord, don’t do it, whatever it is!)

“…can prove it to you…”

(No, don’t prove anything! Talk to your mother first!)

”…never…you hear me, NEVER!”

(Raising my hand to knock on her door and demand information–)

“I know you don’t believe me but—ARGGHH!—I know you don’t believe—SIGH!—I know you don’t—UGH!”

(Running from the hallway before she busts me for listening at her door…) 

Thank God, she was only practicing a part for Acting Class.  Now, why couldn’t they give her the part of the sweet-tempered young miss who loves dressing up, singing hymns in church, and bringing her mother breakfast in bed? That would be a real acting job.