Today, Birdie began her senior year of high school. Just like her first day of kindergarten, Birdie decided to wear a purple shirt. This one didn't have a silver star etched across the front. And the rest of her outfit is different. She traded out the matching purple knit skirt popular with five-year-olds for a decidedly brief pair of denim shorts, popular with teens. And her backpack isn't pink and purple. Now it's practical black. Looking at her in the fuzzy light of morning, for a moment I wondered, where did my baby go? I wanted sweet five-year-old Birdie back. Then I shook sentiment aside. I embraced my prickly teenage Birdie in a no-nonsense hug, wished her a good day and returned to bed for a few minutes more. By choice, Birdie fixes her breakfast, pulls together her backpack, fills her water bottle and makes a lunch. Then she drives herself to school. All of that's O.K. I raised her to do for herself. Now she can. Not only am I proud of her, I'm also well-rested.
No comments:
Post a Comment