Another heated discussion with my teenage daughter, Olivia. Same topic. Different day.
She glared at me over her laptop. “I don’t know why you keep insisting I join a club at school.”
Don’t push, I told myself as I stood in her bedroom doorway. We’d moved to a new city over the summer, and I’d unpacked and set up both of my kids’ rooms before I tackled anything else. I wanted them to get settled. Now, several weeks into the school year, I worried that wasn’t going to happen for my shy 15-year-old.
“I just want you to feel at home here, and making friends will help,” I said. If only I could arrange playdates the way I had when she was younger. “Why not put yourself in a position to meet people? It’s a skill. One you’ll use your entire life.”
“I looked on the school website. There’s no club I’m interested in,” Olivia said. “I’m not signing up for one just to make you happy.”
“What’s the plan for you to make friends then? Because I’m not seeing one.” So much for not pushing.
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll skateboard through the halls with a sign that says, ‘New Kid: Looking for a Friend,’” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not you, Mom! I’ll either make friends or I won’t. I’m honestly good either way.”
She turned back to her laptop. Conversation over.
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