Touch her and die…

I am now the mother of a teenaged daughter.  How the hell did that happen?  One day she was 3 and now she’s 13.  Rissa is now 13.  Except she looks like she’s 17.  She draws the male eye.  And not just the eye of her peers, but the eye of dudes who are a good 5-10 years older than her; dudes who excel at leering.

I remember what it was like being a girl of her age, with a cute little figure and watching as the boys ran into things because they were looking at my ass instead of where they were walking.   When it was happening to me – I thought it was hilarious.  “Look at those dumb boys!  That guy ran into a light post!”  Now it’s happening to her and it’s freaking me out.

As a direct result of my freaking out, I’m starting to freak her out.  But I’m trying to be cool and hip about it.

“We’ll have a code,” I say.

“What kind of code?”

“Put down the machete.”

“Huh?”

” ‘Put down the machete’ will be code for anything stupid that shouldn’t be happening.  Like when a guy tries to touch your boobs, you say ‘Put down the machete.’ ”

Rissa looks at me like I’m nuts.

“Anything drug-related could be ‘Stop smoking the baby.’  Like if some stoned dude offers you and your friends anything to do with drugs, you say… ” I pause, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

“Stop smoking the baby?”

“Exactly.”

“O…..kay.“

“Guy tries to cop a feel?” I quiz.

“Put down the machete.”

“You get offered drugs?”

“Stop smoking the baby.”

“Perfect!  Plus it just makes you sound crazy, and most folks don’t want to mess with crazy people.”

Me grabbing the testicles of any dude who tries to feel Rissa up.