With a girl this trying age is often given over to sentimental musings and blues.  She is convinced that nobody understands her, her mother least of all, that she is too sensitive for this harsh world, that she will never receive the love and consideration due her.  Cynicism becomes her main characteristic, and she bitterly sneers at friendship and gratitude, declaring that true, disinterested affection exists only in the imagination.  Is it any wonder that mothers sometimes become discouraged?  Poor mothers! whose combined comfort and distress is the knowledge that the time is fast approaching when their boys and girls will blush for shame at the remembrance of their “salad days, when they were green in judgment.”

Parents have need of vast patience, and let them, before uttering condemnation, carefully consider if they themselves are not a little to blame for the state of their children’s minds; if over-indulgence and unwise consideration have not had much to do with the trouble.  One excellent woman has made of her son an insufferable boor by constantly deferring to him, no matter in what company, and by allowing him to see that she considers his very ordinary intellect far above the average.  In a parlor full of educated men and women she went out of her way to tell what remarkable views “Charlie” had upon certain religious subjects, and, after attracting the attention of the assembled company, called upon “Charlie” to give vent to his sentiments that all present might observe how original they were.  Whereupon the hulk of a son, consequential and patronizing, discoursed bunglingly, and at length, on his opinions and beliefs, until he was inflated to speechlessness by conceit, and his hearers disgusted into responsive silence.

If your girl is clever, do not tell her so, or repeat to others in her presence her bright observations.  But, on the other hand, do not snub her, or allow her to feel that her intellect is of an inferior order.  The best way to make a fool of the Young Person is to tell him that he is a fool.  Stimulate your child by all the love and appreciation at your command, but let it be intelligent appreciation, not blind admiration or prejudiced disapproval.  Do you recollect how you felt and dreamed and gushed when you were a girl, the pages of sentimental twaddle (as you now call it) which you confided to the diary which you burned in disgust at twenty-one?  Do you remember how genuine your distresses then seemed?  You can smile at the girl you once were, but still you find it in your heart to pity her, poor, silly child, foolishly sobbing late into the night over some broken friendship or imaginary heart-trouble.  Perhaps she had no mother to whom to go, or perhaps her mother “did not understand.”  See that you do not make the same mistake, but, while you recognize the folly of the trouble, think of the heartache back of it all.  When your girl was a tiny child, you petted and comforted her as she wailed over her broken dolly.  Was that grief so much more sensible than this, or do you love her less now?  When your four-year-old boy came to you with his stories of what he would do when he was “a great big man,” you drew him close to you and encouraged him to “talk it all out.”  Now, when he is a head taller than you, and tells you of his hopes and aspirations, you sigh that “boys are so fresh and visionary!”