Now, if you love your daughter (and you do, and I love my daughter), you want to know what’s going on in her life. As a result of those bleeping Afterschool Specials on ABC, we are all aware of the secret horrors that our teenagers can get into, even if ABC was reaching on some of those (“Today on a very special Afterschool Special . . . Sally was just another teen until her addiction to mascara got the best of her . . . tune in for “A Max Factor Monkey On My Back.”). You love your kid, you trust your kid, but you’re scared. I know I am.

If you’ve got a reasonable relationship with your child, you can count on getting Level One information without much of a fight. The names of her friends; how it’s going in Math class; whose house she’s going to; who’s going to be there; whether any adult will be there. I don’t compromise on Level One information. I need to know where she is, where she’s going, who she’s going with, and whether she’s failing any major subjects in school. If I don’t think I’m getting accurate information regarding Level One, I am entitled to take all reasonable steps to acquire that information, including asking her directly for it (“Who is Sandy? Is Sandy a he or a she? Does Sandy have a last name?”), or, if I am provoked, picking up the phone to make sure that the party at Sandy’s house is not, in fact, a kegger.

Now, do you want to know how your kid is actually feeling about what’s going on her life? Oh, sorry, that’s Level Two. This is going to be inconsistent at best. The direct approach will not, not, not work. If you ask your daughter how’s she’s feeling, the answer is likely to be something like “Fine!”, even if there are actually tears streaming down her cheeks when she answers. If I think that some aspect of her life isn’t going great, I need her to be comfortable. Bedtime’s not a bad time. I have to pick a day when we haven’t had some battle, when she’s not seeing me as an adversary. If I can get the stars to align, then I can sit down with her and say, “Hey, are you OK about [insert topic of concern]? Because it seems like . . . .” It’s not always going to work, and her mother is better at it than I am, but it works some of the time.

But you NEED this information. If your child has a problem, you want to know what it is. Not that you can help with all of the problems that exist in the teen years (or that you’d want to), but you’d like to know. Even if you know, that doesn’t solve the problem all the time – particularly when you get Level Two information about somebody else’s kid.

Not long ago, my wife told me that a friend of Eldest Daughter’s (we’ll call the friend “Marcia”) was “going out” with some boy. They’re in the eighth grade, so this is a fairly new development, but not earth-shaking. I was NOT sworn to secrecy regarding this information. I saw Marcia’s mother at a dinner that weekend, and casually mentioned that Marcia was allegedly dating the boy in question. Imagine my astonishment when it became apparent that Marcia’s mother had absolutely no idea that her daughter was dating anyone. Part of me felt justified in having inadvertently disclosed this fact; I’d sure as hell want to know if my daughter was dating somebody. Part of me felt a little queasy in that I’d spilled the beans on information that turned out to be Level Two.

Upon reflection, I’m comfortable with that. I would not, I don’t think, tell a parent that her daughter had a crush on some boy, even though that would also be Level Two information. I would definitely tell a parent if I found out that her daughter was doing drugs or engaging in another form of self-destructive behavior, because (again) I’d want to know. Marcia’s mother, after the dust settled, actually thanked me, and invoked the Parental Mutual Protection Treaty – we have to look out for each other.

Fair enough, but there’s a problem there. If our kids think we’re going to tell everything to everyone, they’re going to tell us NOTHING.

So you’ve got to draw a line. When my daughter confronted me about my big flapping yap regarding Marcia’s boyfriend, my response was simple: if you ask me to keep a secret, I will, unless you’re asking me to place somebody in peril by keeping that secret. If you think one of your friends needs help, and you want me to help them without telling their parents, the answer is “that depends.” Are they failing math? Bring them over for tutoring; I don’t feel the urgent need to share that. Are they pregnant? Sorry, the parents have to get involved. I would not be able to face a parent if I kept a secret that placed their kid in danger, and didn’t let them know, and their child was hurt by my inaction.

Trust is delicate. My children must be able to trust me. But trust me to do what? To help them, always. To help their friends, if I can. To keep their secrets, if I can. But I can easily see the day coming (even if I hope it never comes), when keeping a secret from a child’s parents just isn’t acceptable.

I want to know what’s going on with my daughter, and I want to know what’s going on with her friends. If my daughter’s in trouble, I’m going to try to help. If another child’s in trouble, and it’s serious enough that I don’t feel comfortable stepping in without that child’s parents, I’m going to let them know. I’ve told my daughter this, and I think she understands. I’m not sure that anybody ever trusts another person with all of their secrets, and I don’t expect her to trust me with all of hers. But I think she knows we’ll help her with the small stuff, the big stuff, and all the stuff in-between . . . and that we’ll help with her friends’ stuff if we can.

(. . . and as for the stuff you find out about when she leaves the instant messaging window open on the computer – that’s a topic for another day.)