growing up

Last week Gracie told me a funny story while I was cooking dinner. She was talking fast and slurred one of her words. It instantly reminded me of what she sounded like after losing her two front teeth years ago. I looked up and smiled, almost expecting to see my little six-year-old clutching her pink bunny in one hand and a Barbie in the other. 


But I looked up and saw this young lady instead, all teeth intact.

My 11-year-old who smells like cotton candy perfume … who uses my razor and wipes her mascara off on the shower curtain … who talks on the phone morning noon and night …  who doodles and sketches and blogs … who recently asked to wear my engagement ring to cheerleading practice …

Oh my.


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