One of the most fabulous things about having a teenaged daughter is hearing her laugh.
There is a stage in female adolescent development that causes her mouth muscles to pull downward quite often and her eyes tend to roll at the slightest hint of a parental opinion. Almost all communication on her part whithers to a grunt or, if you’re lucky, a tirade in which you, or parents as a species, bear the brunt of anything non-Fall Out Boy that has ever happened in the fullness of civilisation. Her apparal of choice is the absolute opposite of anything you’d choose now, or would have chosen when you were that age, (God forbid you should ever mention the words: “when I was your age”), and food, must be once again in the orange category that was so popular in her toddler years (i.e. macaroni and cheese, carrots, orange juice or Orange Crush). During this time, the female hormones – so prone to coordinate cycles in earlier years, tend to ebb in the opposite direction now, causing even the most transcendental mom to pop off a few well aimed verbal whallops, while the teenaged girl explores her newfound world of expletives.
All of this becomes blissfully insignificant, when quite by chance, you walk by an open door where she is watching an old favorite Disney movie and you are lucky enough to hear a beautifully matured version of that three-year old giggle.