Father of a teen

I became a father at forty. That’s when my son came into the world. My daughter was born four years later. That is when I figured out, that I might be too old for fatherhood. She spent the first 28 days of her life in neo-natal ICU. She was impatient to get out and see the world and didn’t wait for her digestive system to develop. So for the first four weeks of her life she was fed from a bottle through a tube in her nose. It was mother’s milk but the delivery method was unorthodox. It was during one of those feedings when she was nestled on my forearm looking up at me that I was struck with a cold chill. I looked at her and realized one day she was going to be a teenager, not only that, but a teenaged GIRL. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and then had a moment of relief, a plan developed. I would almost be senile by then. If I could work it correctly, I could start my second childhood and work my way backward and meet her at aged eight. She would think I had boy cooties, and I would think she had girl germs and we could at least coexist. Then by the time she was 13 I would be smiling, and drooling in a rocker in the corner.
However, it didn’t work out that way. She got to be eight, and was a terrific kid, a gymnast, honor student, and fun to be with. Then came the dark ages, I think it was around eleven, but my memory has been tampered with. She gave up gymnastics for dance. That was ok, dancers are cute. I could take all kinds of Dega-esque photos of her and become rich and famous. But along with dancing she became possessed by a demon. This is not an unusual demon I found out, It pretty much possesses every tween girl, or so their pale shaking parents tell me.
Now, Outwardly, in public, there is absolutely no sign of her inner demon. She is beautiful, dances like Terpsichore, and is if anything a more outstanding student. She is helpful, kind, witty and everything in the Boy Scout oath. It is at home where she changes from Beauty to the Beast. She is not bipolar, because bipolar people alternate between highs and lows on a period that is longer than hourly. She can be Daddy’s little girl, all light and cheer and before I can adjust to the saintly lady she has transformed into a creature from the depths, full of darkness and vitriol.
I know it is not an uncommon phenomenon, and I am told that young women grow out of this possession, but by then I will be drooling and shaking, and I am certain I will not be smiling.