A Letter to My Daughter

Jane, I know that you’re angry with me because I won’t let you watch Glee or read The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner. In a few years, or maybe in a few decades you’ll recognize that I love you enough to hold your eleventh year sacred. I know that other moms let their daughters watch Glee. I don’t care. I’m not raising Joan, Melissa or Sandy, I’m raising you, and Los Angeles can be a crummy place to raise a kid. I’m pretty sure that in high school at …