growing

She's growing.

In all the ways that are good.

And sometimes sad for a mama.

Her legs are longer.

Her stories are funnier.

And we can see glimpses of the 7, 8, 9 year old she is going to be.

She reaches for my hand less.

And can get her own snack.

And has chores of her own.

She can play outside for awhile by herself,

is learning to read,

and thinks Animal Planet is the best thing ever.

She has become modest,

is talking back,

but still gives great kisses.

She picks her own clothes,

blows her own nose,

and wants her independence.

I love the new her.

But have moments of missing her baby self.

The pudgy hands.

The curls.

The "I do it's".

Cutting her fruit.

Picking her outfits.

And pushing a stroller.

She is about to start Kindergarten.

Excuse me for being dramatic.

But it feels like the beginning of the End.

She is so excited!

And I am so excited for her!

She can't wait for recess.

And to really learn to read.

She is desperate to make new friends.

And please her teacher.

But I know things she doesn't know.

Mean girls.

Little disappointments.

And being unsure of herself.

Playground bullies.

Being punished for too much talking.

And missing mama.

All these little hurts are in her immediate future.

And there is not one thing I can do about it.

But be there.

Help her be brave.

Remind her she is fantastic!

Be her mama.