To preface this entry, my daughter is 17. She's gorgeous, witty, and reasonably smart when she wants to be. Okay? Okay.
Ryan comes over to me and plops down. "I need a boyfriend." she declares.
I raise an eyebrow. "I don't think Santa can leave a boy under the tree." I said.
"What? You want me to mail order you a boyfriend? Search the personal ads for you?"
"No. Gross. I want to travel and go find my own. I saw that guy at the mall you said was cute and he was SO not."
"Yes, he was!" I said. "He was totally my type!"
::Ryan clicks her tongue::
"Okay..." she says... "I don't need a boyfriend. I just need a cute boy with an accent so he can talk to me."
"As long as talking is all you're doing. No dates for you til you're 30."