Bringing common sense with a grain of salt back to parenting!
Mistake: Turning crushes into headline-worthy events.
Symptoms: “WHO is it? Do they know? Do they like you back? What’s their last name? What’s their parents' blood type? Are we talking wedding registry?”
Reality check: Curiosity is natural, but interrogations kill trust faster than a middle school rumor.
At some point between ages 11 and 13, many parents stumble into the sticky, blush-filled world of tween crushes. Your kid drops the word “like” in a suspicious tone, or you notice them hovering a little longer around someone at school, and suddenly your inner gossip reporter springs to life.
However ... turning every innocent crush into a family press conference doesn’t strengthen your bond — it embarrasses your tween into retreating further. So let's look at why we pounce on their first crushes, how it backfires, and how to support our tweens' emotional growing pains without broadcasting them like breaking news.
THE ISSUE
Picture it:
You’re in the car. Your 12-year-old mutters something about sitting next to Jamie at lunch. Your ears perk up.
“Jamie?” you repeat, in that tone that means you’re fishing for intel.
Your child’s face goes redder than a stop sign.
By the time you pull into the driveway, you’ve asked:
“Do they like you back?”
“What’s their last name?”
“Do their parents know?”
“Should I start practicing my speech for the wedding toast?”
We might think this is a playful or supportive response. It's not. To an average tween, this level of attention feels like a magnifying glass on their most vulnerable feelings. So they now has only one plan: never mention Jamie’s name again. Or better yet, to avoid future embarrassment, never mention that they like anyone.
WHY PARENTS DO THIS
It’s not (usually) malice — it’s instinct, mixed with a dash of nostalgia. Crushes are juicy. They’re part humor, part heart, part drama. When your tween mentions one, it lights up a whole cocktail of parental impulses:
Curiosity disguised as caring. You want to know everything happening in their world, and nothing is juicier than “they like someone.”
Nostalgia trip. You remember your own first crush, the nerves, the butterflies. Suddenly, you’re reliving it — except this time you’re the commentator, not the star.
Protective instincts. If you know who they like, maybe you can prevent heartbreak, betrayal, or a partner you deem “trouble.”
Comedy gold. Tweens plus crushes equals awkward hilarity. The temptation to laugh, tease, or make it a running family joke is irresistible.
The myth of openness. We tell ourselves: if I ask 37 questions about it, they’ll know they can “talk to me about anything.” (Spoiler: they won’t.)
CULTURAL SHIFT
A few years back tween crushes were scribbled in spiral notebooks and hidden under mattresses. Parents might notice a doodled name in bubble letters but mostly ignored it. If you told your mom, it was whispered over the phone cord while pacing the kitchen, and maybe she smirked but moved on.
Now it's different. Crushes are broadcast, intentionally or not, via Instagram likes, text threads, or being tagged in a TikTok dance. Parents have way more visibility into their kids’ social circles — and way more temptation to comment. Instead of one awkward conversation, there’s a whole family group chat dropping heart emojis and inside jokes about “Jamie.”
What used to be secret diary material is now easy parental fodder — and tweens, already living under a social microscope, are extra sensitive to being spotlighted at home too.
HOW THIS HARMS CHILDREN (AND US)
It feels harmless, even funny, but the interrogation game carries real risks:
It turns crushes into shame. Instead of seeing their feelings as normal, tweens learn: liking someone = instant embarrassment.
It shuts down openness. They’ll stop telling you anything remotely personal. If “Jamie” turned into “Jordan,” you’ll be the last to know.
It damages trust. If they confide in you and you broadcast it (to siblings, grandparents, or social media), they’ll retreat even further.
It amplifies anxiety. Navigating new emotions is already awkward. Add an audience? They’ll want to quit the show.
It risks peer exposure. All it takes is one “funny” comment at pickup — “So, Jamie, huh?” — for your child to become the headline of middle school gossip.
And the subtle harm: if every crush is treated like a scandal, they may grow up equating relationships with judgment and ridicule instead of support.
AVOIDING THE TRAP
So how can we handle the sticky subject of tween crushes without either ignoring or humiliating them? Here are some ideas how to retire our inner tabloid reporter and step into the role of guide instead.
Treat it as normal, not newsworthy. When they mention a crush, don’t gasp like you’ve discovered buried treasure. Nod, smile, keep it casual. Think weather report, not breaking news.
Keep questions light and optional. Instead of “What’s their last name? Do they like you back?”, try: “What do you like about them?” Or even just: “That’s cool.” Then… silence. Let them decide if they want to share more.
No public commentary. Golden rule: if your kid confides in you, it stays with you. No blurting it out to siblings, no winking at school pickup, no “funny” Facebook post. (Remember: For tweens, even Grandma finding out can feel like CNN picked it up.)
Avoid teasing disguised as bonding. Playful jokes — “So when’s the wedding?” — don’t land the way you think. To them, it feels like mockery. Save the humor for neutral ground.
Model respect for feelings. Treat their crush with dignity, even if it’s fleeting. Saying “Oh, that’s just silly puppy love” minimizes real emotions. Better: “I remember that feeling — it’s exciting and awkward all at once.”
Separate your anxiety from their experience. You might worry about heartbreak or drama, but resist the urge to project. Don’t start Googling the other kid’s parents. Let your child learn at their pace.
Be their safe landing zone. If things don’t work out (the crush doesn’t like them back, or worse, teases them), your role isn’t “I told you so.” It’s “That stings. Want ice cream and a movie?” Comfort first, advice later.
MISTAKES TO AVOID
Treating crushes like family entertainment.
Sharing their secrets “just with Aunt Carol.”
Turning one crush into a lifelong prediction. (“So this is my future son-in-law!”)
Over-analyzing every social interaction like you’re decoding CIA intel.
THE PAYOFF
When puppy love shows up, our job isn’t to break the news. It’s to quietly hold the mic, nod, and remind them that feelings — even awkward, blush-inducing ones — are part of growing up. This way we can create something important for our tweens: a safe harbor in a stormy age. One in which they learn that their feelings are valid, not embarrassing, and that they can share without fear of mockery or exposure.
The payoff for us? A stronger bond and more insight into their world — because ironically, the less we pry, the more they’ll share.
Crushes will come and go. Today it’s Jamie from math class; tomorrow it’s someone they saw once at Target. The names will fade, but what lasts is this: they’ll remember us as the parent who didn’t turn their vulnerable feelings into a punchline.
© Kristijan Musek Lešnik, 2025
