I've spent my weekend helping my daughter have a fabulous thirteenth birthday. Nothing extravagant – it was the quintessential slumber party with giggly friends, chocolate and music. We had a family gathering today – the grandparents, my sister and her family, friends.
My baby turns thirteen tomorrow. She spent the weekend trying on makeup and wobbling around on heels that she bought for herself (and isn't allowed to wear to school). She danced with a boy for the first time on Friday night (Middle School Dance). I can't regret how quickly she is leaving her childhood behind. She has been and continues to be a source of joy and wonder.
Baby of the family, the last one in the nest – already fluttering her wings and impatiently waiting to fly. And then she grins at me, throws her arms around me and says – I love you, mommy. Just as she did when she was four. She teeters between childlike abandon and womanly grace. The beauty is – I think she'll somehow hold on to both.
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