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"I&amp;#039;m heading into a weekend with the kids and honestly, I can&amp;#039;t say I&amp;#039;m looking forward to it much. My daughter is turning into some strange sort of alien creature with frightening hormonal superpowers and I&amp;#039;m just along for the ride. She turned twelve over two weeks ago, and I think she&amp;#039;s said twelve words to me cumulatively since. If she were ever missing, I could find her by identifying the top of her head. I&amp;#039;d know it anywhere. She looks down all the time, either at her phone, at a book or at her feet because eye contact is so 2012, I guess. I took the kids out to a fast food place for dinner on Tuesday night, and it was so sunny and beautiful, I told them we&amp;#039;d sit outside at their picnic tables. Somehow, this caused her head to spin and flames to shoot out of her eyes as she informed me that this was unacceptable. Any form of dining in public with the two of us was just not going to do. So David and I ate at the tables in the sunshine, and she laid down in the back seat of the car and played minecraft on her phone while she ate.  This morning, I dared to put her black sneakers down in front of her while she was getting dressed when I should have clearly known she wanted to wear her Aeropostale flip-flops. What was I thinking? The next thing you know, I&amp;#039;ll be telling her to wear her friendship bracelet on the wrong wrist or serving her the root beer that she loves even though she&amp;#039;s now decided she&amp;#039;s hated it all her life. Obviously, I cannot be trusted. Or spoken to, apparently. I know this is all a phase, but I miss my daughter. Please tell me I&amp;#039;ll get her back eventually. I will, right? Right? "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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