they just keep growing up.
The other morning my oldest, age 9, was wearing her pink jammies with little angels and hearts all over them. She ate her breakfast at the table, as usual, and then returned to her room. Fifteen minutes later, she returned... at least five years older.
Khaki slacks, a flowered blouse, her hair brushed neatly, and high healed sandals from her aunt... I thought a strange teenager had come to my house. How did it happen? I swear, she left the room a little girl, and returned a young lady. It nearly made me cry.
Tonight she's on an overnight with her friends... an entirely different city... far away. I know she's having fun. I know she's making memories much like the ones I have from age nine. So much a kid, yet so much more than that. And it seems like just yesterday, she was my baby.
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