It’s my youngest daughter’s 16th birthday tomorrow. What she really wants most for her birthday is testosterone. Because we’ve had this battle before, usually ending in tears for both of us, she doesn’t ask me for “T” for her birthday this year. Instead she settles for the other front runners on her list of things she wants most in the world:

1. Five Nights at Freddy’s collector figure set $99
2. A Five Nights at Freddy’s Pillow Pet (Foxy to be specific) $35
3. Athletic basketball shorts: Adidas. $25 (I’m guessing cuz they’re comfortable asf. And because they’re from the Boys section)

It’s the first year she hasn’t asked for silly putty or sparkly slime. Or Lego’s. Or stuffed animals. Although I feel like the foxy pillow pet kinda still counts.

I can only refer to her as “her” and “she” when I’m not around her. Or when I’m writing in my journal. Like now. But it always has to be “he” and “him” when I’m speaking to her/him. Or when I’m being observed/overheard by my ‘Little Hitler’ who will bring the hammer down on me swiftly and without room for error should I slip.