You know, I don’t remember sticking my nose into my parent’s business when I was a young girl. I think it was more like, the less I know about their business, the less they will know about mine. However, it seems like every girl over six, who has lived in our home as adopted or foster daughters, over the past 14 years, has made it her business to know my business. Two of my daughters, who are the oldest girls currently living at home, are no exception. At 14 and 10, they could make Sherlock Holmes seem like an amateur. I hate to be gender specific here, but none of the boys we have parented, have done these things.

When I am on the phone, they miraculously have something to do in the same room. When the phone call ends, they are suddenly finished with whatever they were doing. Then they seek out one of the other children to share their newly acquired information. If they happen to share information with one of the boys, then he will probably come to me to verify the information. He might say, “Mom, are we really going sledding tomorrow with people from the church? Because Dani just said that we are.”

I find some of it amusing. One of my now adult daughters, used to come into the kitchen to find out what I was making for supper nearly every day. Then, she would go to each sibling with the information, as if it was some grand secret. Quite often, one of the girls would hear a bit of information and assume the rest, or jump to a conclusion, and then spread that tale among her siblings.

I was reminded of this tonight when our 10-year-old moved all of her bedding into the 14-year-old’s bedroom on the main floor of the house. Silly me, I thought she was cleaning her bedroom, because that is what I told her to do.

You see, last night I had the 14-year-old sleep upstairs, in the room next to ours, where the 10-year-old usually sleeps. I did this because of the choices she made yesterday, thinking she needed the added supervision. I let the 10-year-old sleep downstairs in her bedroom. Apparently, she thought that meant she could move downstairs, something she has been itching to do.

Did she bother to ask me, of course not? Was her room clean, of course not? Did I make her take her bedding back upstairs? Yes I did, and she wasn’t too happy.

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Photo Credit Julia Fuller 2006