There was a time when I would anticipate Friday, with the excitment of a little kid at Christmas. This, until I had a teenage daughter. Gone are the days of throwing on sweats, climbing into an evening beverage, gobbling up a pizza and cozying in with a movie. My "happy hour" now consists of answering more phone calls than the White House, and asking "Who, what, when and where." When what I really want to ask is "why?" Why don't you want to stay home with us anymore? Why do you need to go out? Why can't you be entertained here with us? I know we're giving her wings, (and they've even been clipped from time time time.) Who is this child and what did you do with the 6th grade honor roll student of last year? In some ways I can answer that question. She has become a 7th grader who is now old enough to watch her sister on a Friday night, so that my husband and I can go OUT for a beer and a burger. And that folks, is what we call a tradeoff.