Savannah, my 6 going on 16-year-old daughter, and her “boyfriend” Lucas broke up. Actually, he dumped her for an “older woman” in the building: Tamara, a rail thin, in-you-face 7-year-old who lives on his floor and a renowned instigator. Convenience, I suppose, bought the two together. We live five flights up.
From a financial standpoint, I was bit relieved. When he came over for playdates, he’d head straight to the frig and wouldn’t stop grazing until his dad came later to fetch him. (See “Is It A Playdate or Dining Experience.”)
With his bottomless stomach his behavior was more like a goat than a boyfriend. Still, Savannah’s pride clearly took a hit and yesterday she came into my bedroom while I was cleaning to vent. “I don’t know how it’s going to work. They have nothing in common,” she said, sounding like a true scorn woman.
I agreed. She and Lucas, after all, are in the same class together, both love Gold Fish, and playing on their D.S. Those kinds of bonds are hard to find.
“And not only that, she’s 7 and he’s 6,” said Savannah, continuing her vent. How stupid is that!”
Agreed. The older woman, younger man thing never works.
Lipstick and Playdates 