Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Talkin' 'Bout My Girl

Did you know that the great whale 
can hold at least million people 

Neither did I.

But my nine year old daughter claims it to be true.

She also claims that

*there is no one on earth that sings like Selina Gomez.

*And that if she EVER hears anyone getting sick -- like, you, know puking a lung -- she will die. Right now, DIE. Not tomorrow, not the next day, oh no -- lemme tell ya RIGHT NOW.

She loves to wear mismatched socks.  She loves to torment her brothers.  One day she wants a bun in her hair, another day she wants honest-to-goodness pig tails.

I love this age.

Could any age of a girl be more entertaining than the 9/10/not quite a teen, but not a little kid anymore stage?

She is learning to straddle the abyss between little girlhood and her teens.   Sometimes she opts for the quieter, gentler option of Barbies or coloring and other times she races headlong into song and dance with such alarmingly perfected (and rather grown up) moves that make me determined to never let her watch the Disney Channel ever again.

The Affectionate One always talks in superlatives.  Always with one hand on her hip and the other waving in the air to make her point.  And always about 300 decibels higher than the human ear was made to withstand, nor human brain understand. 

Yet, she is a work of art.  A gift.  A treasure.  And I am so blessed to be her mama.

Yes, even when she's telling a story while falling dramatically on the couch with a the back of her delicate hand draped across her slightly flushed forehead.

Not that she's dramatic or anything.

Oh, no, not my girl.



Counting it all girlhood joy,

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