When my eldest daughter turned two she told me that one day she was going to draw pictures for a Disney movie.
I wrote this down in her baby book. It was one of the few things I did write in that book. If you were to look at her baby book today you would not know if she ever grew any teeth, but you would know that at two she had decided what she wanted to be when she grew up.
Tomorrow I am driving this same daughter to the local 'arts high school' for an orientation. If she wants to apply to their fine arts program she needs to submit an application by November 28th and be ready for interviews, skill evaluation and portfolio submissions in January. The competition I'm told, to get into this school is tough.
Yes, my almost fourteen year old still wants to draw for Disney.
If she gets into this program it will make my life a logistical nightmare as I have no idea how I'm going to get everyone to school on time next fall. But if my girl wants it, and I mean really wants it for herself and gets accepted, I will move any mountains needed so that this happens for her.
I'm thrilled that my daughter has a dream – a passion. On the other hand, the fact that she is old enough to recognize this and work towards it makes me want to cry.
She's not a baby anymore, but she's still my baby.
Anyone know how to slow down time?