Sorry about that

I had a post yesterday it was a Sunday post and probably a great one, I had started it and was taking my time and then Sophie came home, she talked to me. One of these days I will have to video her talking so you can understand where I am coming from. There should be an olympic speciality for speed talking about nothing but throwing the odd gem in just to keep your mother on her toes.
She was telling me about her friends and the boy she liked and the books she is going to write ( talking ones probably, without punctuation) and I sort of wanted to tell her how my ambitions are less adventurous, a damn blog entry at 1am would suffice for now, but hey, it's good to talk isn't it? With your teenagers anyway, so I sat and stared into space until she told me that Al, who she had been sort of going out with and was nice to her was TWENTY SIX and she hadn't told me that bit because she thought I might mind.
I then remembered the conversation we had about how old would be the oldest she could date ( my answer had been that it was impossible to say, that actually I thought she would be better with someone a bit older, she said how about 26 and I think I snorted) She would certainly be better with someone older than her because she is hard work, but precious and needs understanding. 26 might be a bit too much older and anyway seems he has a 'missus'. Lord help me.
Then my brain farted and I went into a sort of coma.
She stopped talking, which was a blessing but my fingers had frozen into a claw, so the blog entry about lovely floaty sunday things never happened.
Sorry, I have a teenage daughter. Just the one girl and 5 boys. That is something to be very grateful for, Thankyou God.