My daughter is fourteen, and her boyfriend—also fourteen—is polite, gentle, and, for a teenager, surprisingly respectful.
He greets us every time he arrives, slips off his shoes at the door, and thanks me when he heads home.
Every Sunday, he visits, and the two of them spend hours in her room. I remind myself they’re just hanging out, but when the giggles get quieter and the door stays firmly shut, my imagination starts to wander.Continue reading…
