My youngest is 12. I should know, I was there and I have her birth certificate to prove it too.
Lately however, she seems to be under the impression that she is 18.
A few minutes ago, she came into my office to show me a pair of shorts that she was planning on taking to camp.
'How do they look?' she asked.
I had her do a spin and then, satisfied with the length and fit, I replied.
'They're cute and the fit is adorable.'
She gave me her best evil eye.
'What?' I asked, looking up from behind my laptop.
'I don't want to be cute or adorable,' she replied.
'Oh, what do you want to be?' I naively asked.
'Sophisticated,' she replied and flounced out of my office.
And um, sophisticated?
In jean shorts and a t-shirt?
I wonder what I'm supposed to say when she's in a prom dress?
But, you know what the really sad part is?
I am entering those years of her life where, in her opinion, I will not know anything or be able to do anything right.
The next six years should be uh, interesting.
And, kinda sad.
And possibly, downright scary too.