(Not) A Perfect Parent

When my 12-year-old daughter started high school, she got her first proper mobile phone.  3 months into high school life we found out that she, along with her friends, had created an Instagram and SnapChat account (not that this was a huge problem as I recognised that this was another way for her to communicate with her friends). The main problem was that being an immature 11-year-old (at the time) she accepted any followers - and I mean anyone! Her moto was, “if in doubt, accept!” This horrified us. Looking through her account there were various images of scantily clad men and women, clearly the less to wear the better. Their ages seemed to be around 20, a LOT older than her. So we sat her down, once I had left Earth orbit, flown past Jupiter and returned a little calmer. We tried to explain the dangers of what she was doing and what this could lead to, but it didn't go particularly well. We had the now staple looks to the ceiling, the huffing and associated

The other day whilst I was at university (I am studying Child Development and Behaviour) a discussion started up in the cafe, centered around children and specifically their teenage years. I had mentioned that I have a 12-year-old daughter with the attitude of a 15-year-old. This was met with expressions of shared despair from some, generally the ones that were parents themselves and disbelief that I was so blunt about it, from a young 23-year-old fellow student. In our house something really interesting must be written on our ceiling (visible only to the non-adults), as eyes are constantly rolled upwards, especially when my husband and I speak. This is unless we're saying, “yes you can have your mobile whilst doing your homework”. But we never say that, so the eyes stay fixed skywards. We are evil, of course, saying that she must do her homework or even, God forbid, play with the gerbils that she literally begged for just a couple of years before. Whilst at university