Pellau Magazine

Telling Vogue that your 1-year-old is your best friend, as Beyonce just did, is definitely the diva version of wearing half of one of those “Best Friends” necklaces. (Celebs: Not really like us.). I’m going to assume, given Blue Ivy’s status as, you know, a baby, that Beyonce means she loves that kid, that there’s no one else she’d rather see at the end of the day, that this little girl, above all other people, makes her mom smile. (Hey wait! Celebs: They are like us.) She doesn’t mean that Blue Ivy is the person who she turns to for advice, who she cries to when she’s upset (mean lip-synch haters), or who she goes out with after a great day at work (see: the Superbowl). Right? Because I’m sure Blue Ivy is amazing, but I’m not sure I’d trust a toddler’s opinion on eyeliner. Someday, though, like when Blue Ivy can actually talk, Beyonce might rely on her daughter for any or all of those things. And if that happens when this little girl is an adult, great—I’m sure they’ll work it out. But until then, it brings up the question: Should we be friends with our kids? I understand the impulse: Kids are fun, they are smart, and we are not mean old parents who can’t relate to them. And yet: How do you tell a friend she needs to quiet down at Starbucks or else you won’t stop at Target for a treat? My son’s too little still for me to worry about this for real, but here’s what I hope: I hope that someday he’ll feel like I’m the person he can talk about anything and that I’m worth asking for advice. But I don’t want him to be that person for me. I guess that makes it a pretty one-sided best friendship—also known as being his mom. Sarah Smith is a deputy editor at REDBOOK and the mom of a baby boy. She and her furry circus (husband, baby, dog, and cat) live in New York City.