Nine

Alyssa climbed onto my lap last night around 8:25. She’d been in the other room with her dad but had come to find me as it neared bedtime. I snuggled her close and kissed her hair.

She whispered, “Daddy hit me in the eye with the remote. He didn’t mean to, but it still hurt.”

I hugged her close and kissed her eye.

She said, “It was the other eye.”

I kissed the other eye and ran my finger along her jaw, a jaw that can be so stubbornly set at times but at that moment was relaxed and sleepy.

I held by big girl, knowing that these moments when she wants me to hold her tight, when she needs my physical presence won’t come often as she continues to grow and become more independent.

Nine is independent but still needy. Nine is friendly and yet aloof as she figures out her place among her peers.

Nine is cooperative at school but pulling at the reins at home, testing her boundaries, trying to fly even though she really knows she’s not ready.

Nine still loves Junie B. Jones books but is also branching out into Nancy Drew.

Nine still wears footie pajamas to bed but isn’t as against wearing jeans to school as seven and eight were.

Nine still lets me wash her hair but also locks the door to the bathroom for privacy.

Nine is awesome and frustrating and I’m so lucky to get to experience it with her.