My daughter is fourteen years old. She is also seeing a fourteen-year-old boy. He is a pleasant man who is extremely well-behaved. He visits us every Sunday, and he spends the whole day in my daughter’s room with her. To avoid upsetting them, I had the following thought one Sunday:
“We live in the twenty-first century. Children are growing up more quickly these days. Could it be that they are producing their own children there? I hurried to her room, opened the door, and heard them conversing as the lamp was dimmed. You know what I see when I walk into the room looking like I’ve got you? The boy is lying on the couch reading aloud while my daughter is knitting a scarf in the armchair. “Would you like some tea?.?” was all I could say.
