Many times, when a girl is nine, ten, eleven, twelve… she comes home from school giddy and full of what we all know as “girl drama.” She’s laughing, talking fast, telling you who likes who, what someone said, who looked at who…And to us, it can sound so silly.
So, what do many mothers do? They brush it off.
“That’s silly.”
“Don’t get caught up in that.”
What we don’t realize is what is actually happening. She is bringing it to you to sort through it. She is asking—without saying it directly, “Is this right? Is this normal? Is this something that would help me or hurt me?”
When she feels dismissed, she doesn’t stop processing… she stops bringing it to you. That is the moment we have to be careful not to lose.
Because what must happen here is this: you must listen far more than you speak.
She is working things out by talking them through. And while she’s talking, she is also watching you. There’s a certain look she gives. Waiting. Watching your face. Measuring your response.
That’s your moment.
Not to shut it down—but to guide it.
I remember conversations like: “Catherine likes Billy, and Billy just keeps looking at…” And instead of dismissing it, I would ask something like, “Do you think boys are actually attracted to a girl who throws herself at them, or to a girl who is strong enough to stand back and just be her own person?”
You can almost see it click. They start to think, “Oh… that’s not actually a good way to relate to boys.”
That’s how you shape thinking—not by lecturing, but by asking. Because when they talk about “that girl,” they are often really placing themselves in that situation and quietly asking for your perspective. So, you gently guide.
• “I don’t think that was very wise.”
• “Do you think she considered how that might affect him?”
• “What happens when something like that falls apart?”
You’re not just correcting behavior—you’re building discernment.
There are so many small moments like this, where you can help shape what is appropriate, what is wise, and what reflects something deeper than just feelings. And I’ll be honest—it can become tedious.
You can get tired of the constant talking, the repeating themes, the same kinds of stories over and over.
Never ridicule.
Never silence.
Because if you do, she will still form her views—just without you. And if you stay present in it, something beautiful happens.
There will come a time—there always does—when the situation is no longer silly, when the decision is weighty.
And she will come to you… or to her father… and ask: “What do you think about this?”
And in that moment, you will realize—all those small, seemingly insignificant conversations…were building toward this one.
“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth” (3 John 1:4).