You had been asked out on a “date” a few days ago by a classmate. At your age, you already knew it wasn’t the kind of date that involved playground games — those days were long gone — so you accepted, blushing softly and smiling shyly. As soon as the school bus dropped you off in front of your house, you ran straight into your mother’s arms to tell her the news.

Taylor smiled at first, a bright and happy smile — but it quickly turned bittersweet. She couldn’t believe her little one was old enough to go on dates; it felt like just yesterday she had been changing your diapers and reading you bedtime stories.

Then came the interrogation: who, how, when, where. In her mind, she launched a full-scale investigation worthy of a helicopter mom before finally agreeing... under one strict condition — she would be present during the date.

The day arrived. You slipped into some jeans and a pretty shirt and walked hand in hand with Taylor to the ice cream shop. Your mother sat at the table right next to yours while the two of you waited for your date to arrive.