“I want to live in America — they have cheerleaders. Ohhhhh, why did you move here? You didn’t have to, you know … you could have asked someone in America to marry you.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the thought that the primary concern in my daughter’s life right now is the state of cheerleading in the world. Like the vast majority of American girls, I once had fantasies of being a cheerleader, but fear of rejection (and natural clumsiness) kept me from ever trying out. Even so, I did make up little cheers and routines and practice them in the privacy of my bedroom, just as Lydia is doing right now, but I was fourteen then, not seven!

I don’t know if it’s society in general or Lydia in particular, but this growing up business is moving way too fast for me. She’s so into her clothes and her appearance that it’s a bit alarming at times. I was never that fashion-conscious until I was in junior high, at least. She’s been nagging me for months to buy her a bikini and to let her get her ears pierced (both requests have been met with a resounding “NO” and will continue to be denied for the foreseeable future). The other day I caught her posing in front of the mirror wearing the up-to-there mini-skirt that came with her swimsuit and holding her t-shirt tied up around armpit level. What the hell?!

I could go on and on and on about the sexualization of our kids, but I frankly don’t have the energy at the moment. Just kindly allow me an old fogey moment, and bear with me as I bemoan this current state of affairs. What is this world coming to?