And so it begins.
She stomped out of the house yesterday morning at 8.15 completely irate that I'd made two pigtails to keep her hair out of her face, instead of one ponytail. (Silly me.) "I look like a dork!!!!" she huffed.
The night before there'd been much drama because I was ever so gently but firmly insisting that a turtleneck was going to be a necessary part of the outfit for school because it is below freezing outside. "It's not cool to wear a turtleneck!!" she yelled. Fine. I'll take the 96 outfits that you have, 94 more than most kids in the world will ever have, and make them disappear. "NO!" she said. "I'll wear them. Just not this month."
People, she's SEVEN. She's in FIRST GRADE.
I knew the time was coming, the time when my vision of sweet corduroy jumpers and matching turtlenecks and tights would be kicked to the curb in favor of skinny jeans and sweatshirts. I knew I'd hear the words "I look like a dork!" and "it's not cool!", and I knew I'd get to see the backside of an indignant kid stomping off to the bus stop.
I just thought......I just thought I had more time.
And she's one of the more innocent seven-year-olds, as near as I can tell. She hasn't seen High School Musical, she hasn't had a professional pedicure, and [shock! gasp!] she doesn't know any Hannah Montana or Jonas Brothers songs. This is not bragging here, this is just...... wondering why childhood is getting so short.
What's the rush, world?
But then she came home from school, full of sunshine and happy stories about her day, and I remembered again [sigh] that this is a process, a journey, in which we will sometimes take great leaps forward (towards using the word 'dork', I guess) and sometimes we will listen to the happy giggles of a seven year old who loves her baby sister's slide as much as any two year old, and love love love living in the moment.