Today, my daughter turned twelve. I don’t feel old enough to have a twelve year old. I feel like I had her just a bit ago… How can she be five feet tall and nearly a teenager? It just doesn’t make any sense.

She went to her first middle school dance this past Friday. She had to wear just the right jeans, a certain shirt and wanted to wear perfume. She asked for, and got, a hat to wear. I let her wear a little makeup. My guy didn’t like the fact that she was somewhere where we couldn’t monitor her every second. He kept saying he was going to volunteer to chaperone.

I nearly didn’t recognize her when I glanced at her and her friend as they sat in the back seat of the car on the way to the school. How could that girl be my baby? She looked so grown up.

We gave her one of her birthday presents last night. A Pokemon game for the DS. A kid gift. She nearly broke all the glass in the house shrieking in excitement. That’s the kind of gift, and bouncing joyful reaction, you expect.

We gave her a cell phone today. A grown-up gift. She was all stunned gratitude and disbelieving thank you’s. We waited for the screeching and bouncing and unhindered joy. We got giggling and “Really? Honest?!? It’s mine?” and frenzied reading of the manual…

I realize now that my guy insisted on giving her a cell this year because he’s seeing what I’ve been trying to ignore. She’s growing up. She’ll be safer if she has a cell. We’ll feel better if she has a cell.

Someone, somewhere said that parenthood is the only job in which the aim is to put yourself out of business. I’m not ready for that yet. I’m so, so glad that she, and her brothers, are still so young.

Happy Birthday baby girl… Don’t grow up too quick.

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