Is only eleven years old but looks sixteen in this picture.
She’s grouchy one minute and clingy the next. She’s always reading, unless she’s on her tablet, killing zombies and building whatever is built in Minecraft.
She wants independence even as she holds tight to childhood.
She’s at that amazing age where we are lucky she wants to be near us and grateful when she doesn’t.
I can’t keep up with her as she outgrows pants and shoes but still sleeps with Bubby the stuffed dog.
She hasn’t missed a day of school this year and yet celebrated every single snow day like a veritable delinquent glad for an excused absence.
She’s got one foot in the teen years even as she looks back at seven with wonder.
She amazes me even as she frustrates me.
I remind myself every single day how lucky I am to be on this journey with her, to hopefully guide her and help her navigate the tough world of the preteen years and the coming, gasp, teenage years. She’s challenging even as she’s inspiring. I’m just along for the ride, holding tight to her coattails, hoping she’ll let me stick around the edges of her life a little longer.