My 13-year-old is now taller and bigger than me. But that does not stop me from tucking her in at night, accompanied by a fanfare of hugs and kisses. I am not so sure if this nightly ritual is still welcomed anymore. My 13-year-old often awarded this gesture of motherly love with a deliberate frown.

Even our bedtime chitchat is beginning to head downhill…

“So, what did you learn from that Confident Girls book?” 13-year-old.

“What Confident Girls book?” me.

“That book I found on the floor next to your bed.” 13-year-old.

100 Tips for Raising Confident Girls

“Yes. That one. Now, what are some of the tips you learned from it to raise me to be confident?” 13-year-old.

“Hmm….” me. The truth is that book has been sitting next to my bed collecting dust for a number of years now. My kids were toddlers the last time I touched it. But I wasn’t going to come clean to my 13-year-old that I can’t remember a thing from reading that book.

I thought really hard.

I got one!

“Well, one of the tips said that when you do something good. Instead of telling you that I am proud of you, I should hold your shoulders in my hands, look you in the eye, and say ‘Aren’t you proud of yourself?’” me grinning, rather pleased with myself.

“OH! So that’s why you never tell me that you’re proud of me.” 13-year-old.

Bloody murder.

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