February 13: The Most Fun, Henry Fussy, My Daughter

In the last few chapters of Charlotte's Web, Fern seems to lose all interest in Wilbur's plight.  She's busy growing up.  When Wilbur is at the Fair Grounds, Fern's whole focus shifts.  She doesn't hang around the the pigpens.  She's found other things to do, as she tells Avery later:

"The most fun there is," retorted Fern, "is when the Ferris wheel stops and Henry and I are in the top car and Henry makes the car swing and we can see everything for miles and miles and miles."

It's a pretty evocative image of a little girl losing interest in little girl things.  She doesn't even seem to notice that Charlotte is gone at the end of the book.  I even wonder if she's become a little too old to hear the residents of Zuckerman's barn speak.

Of course, little girls grow up.  It's inevitable.  My little Fern is now a young lady of thirteen.  Every night, she gets texts from a boy she met at Bible camp last summer.  When I asked her once what his text said, she picked up her phone and read, "BRB taking a shower."  I said, "Why does he have to tell you he's taking a shower?"  My Fern just laughed and turned back to the video she was watching on the iPad.

I have to say that Henry Fussy has become my least favorite character in Charlotte's Web at the moment.  I mean, the little bastard is making moves on Fern on the Ferris wheel.  I'm sure if he had a cell phone, he'd be texting Fern, "In my long underwear.  What are you wearing?"  Henry takes Fern away from Wilbur.

And my daughter's little friend from Bible camp is doing the same thing with his nightly texts.  I can hear all of you out there thinking, "Oh, for God's sake, get over it!  She's thirteen!"  That doesn't make it any easier to accept the fact that she's turning into a secretive teenager.  It seems like just yesterday that all she wanted to do was visit her Uncle Homer's barn and sit by the manure pile.  Well, you know what I mean.

Thank God she doesn't have school tomorrow.  Just what I need is for her to be around a pack of horny, thirteen-year-old boys on Valentine's Day.

And that's a piece of Saint Marty's mind.

Whatever it is, keep it away from my daughter