Ever feel like “real” friendships aren’t worth the risk?
Back when I was sporting a baby bump (still in the “Is she chubby or pregnant?” phase)—I found out that my third-born was a girl.
There in my then-testosterone-dominated household, pint-sized males regularly calculated the highest step they could jump from without a trip to the ER. They sprinkled around the sides of the toilet. Children’s books instructed me in terminology for construction equipment I never knew existed.
Someone asked me recently how I talk to my daughter about modesty. It was a conversation morphing into how to help our daughters see their bodies as important, but not too important. (See this post, Naked Truth about Body Image.)
Incessantly telling her she’s beautiful—though I honestly believe she is–doesn’t seem to be the answer: “Don’t worry about looking beautiful. You’ve got that one down!”
So I confess. I’m still totally #oneofthose moms of teen boys and a preteen girl, asking the boys to hold open the door for females, or help carry heavy stuff.
Maybe I’ve watched Kate and Leopold too many times? Or maybe I just think there’s something good about mutual regard–and about typically “stronger” parties using their strength to serve.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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