While most of my early childhood memories are blocked forgotten, I remember being twelve years old.
I look at our girl and know that this is when the memories are made. How I am with her, this time right now is crucial if I stop and breathe for a moment. I see that there's the potential for colossal fuck-up. And I see how I'm here for inspiration; secretly thrilled that she wants to raid my closet and jewelry table. That my makeup is the piece d'resistance.
I hope she still continues to think I'm cool, that it's important to kiss and hug us, and that saying I love you each night is the only way to go to sleep.
She's independent and loyal, and she really wants to be liked, so there are times lately that she suffers a little. Hormones rage amongst the entire 6th grade class and there is a list of grievances that needs to be recited each day.
Lately, I've had no patience to listen. As I sit here writing this little post, I realize that I'm lucky to be included in her litany.
I hope she still continues to think I'm cool, that it's important to kiss and hug us, and that saying I love you each night is the only way to go to sleep.
She's independent and loyal, and she really wants to be liked, so there are times lately that she suffers a little. Hormones rage amongst the entire 6th grade class and there is a list of grievances that needs to be recited each day.
Lately, I've had no patience to listen. As I sit here writing this little post, I realize that I'm lucky to be included in her litany.
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