My mom stopped by yesterday and so we took the girls for a walk. Alyssa was running ahead of us (she’s FAST!) and I paused for a minute to just watch her.
Then I said to my mom, “I really love twelve.”
My mom smiled and replied, “Twelve is great but you do realize that you’ve loved every stage so far, don’t you?”
Which, yes, true, I have loved every stage so far but twelve is the best stage yet.
Twelve is so much fun. A twelve year old can get her own breakfast, she can moderate her own homework. She manages her own shower schedule and I never have to worry about the last time she pooped.
And get this…that child who didn’t sleep through the night until she was two years old? The one I had to lay next to until she was, oh, nine? She falls asleep all by herself and never wakes me in the night. She’s awesome.
But seriously, twelve is so great because we TALK to each other. We have actual conversations about friends and life and movies and books and she gets sarcasm (though to be fair to Olivia, she gets it too and finds sarcasm hilarious.) She thinks I’m funny and the best mom ever, even when I’m feeling like the worse mom.
I want to freeze time right now and savor twelve. I want to keep her twelve for at least a couple of years because it’s just that awesome. Even with the little snippy comments we hear as she leaves a room, I adore twelve.
While I would never consider myself my daughter’s friend, I am glad that we’re able to be friendly. I’m glad she comes to me with issues, with concerns and even with her fears. I’m glad that she doesn’t see me as the enemy. I pray she never does.