“Why are you all fancy, Mom?” I’m standing in the bathroom, applying mascara, as my almost 10-year-old daughter scrunches up her face at me from the doorway.
I’m not exactly “fancy.” I have on jeans, cute boots, and there’s hair goop in my hair, which is a change of pace from my usual yoga garb. My observant daughter is not off base to ask questions.
For a moment I ponder whether or not I should be completely honest. I know plenty of single moms who date. Most of them don’t dare utter a word about it to their kids. In fact, they try pretty hard to keep their dating life a total secret. But the thing about 10-year-old girls is, they have a pretty good B.S. detector.
At least the one who lives in my house does, and especially about her own mother.
“I have a date,” I say casually, flashing, her a half excited, half this-might-be-a-terrible-idea-and-maybe-I-should-stay-home-and-eat-ice-cream-in-bed kind of grin. “Okay,” she says, shrugging her shoulders and sashaying away to watch YouTube.