Back to School

I'm pretty sure that my parents saw me as a 7-year-old until I was about 19. And when I reminded them that I was not, in fact, a little girl but an all-grown-up teenager, dangit, my mom would reply, "You'll always be my little girl." I don't know why, but that response always triggered some kind of primal rage in me that made me completely, I-might-claw-your-eyes-out insane. (And since my mom and I like to push each others' buttons, I know that she's going to greet me with this phrase every time we meet for the next eight months or so. But I won't claw your eyes out. You can't make me.) I don't know why I was so offended by that endearing little comment. Maybe my fierce need for independence? Who knows.

But anyway, my point in telling this story is to admit that now I understand. Just like so many countless other things that you can't fathom until you have kids of your own, I understand now what my mom meant. Because even though I'm looking at this:
All I see is this.
But I can't think about that anymore, because I'm already starting to make myself cry. And I'm not a dainty crier. I'll boob all over myself and then I'll have a headache all day tomorrow. Instead, can we talk about how cute Haley is in her school uniform? I'm certain that she's the most beautiful little (oops, I mean big) second-grader ever.

And yes, she'll always be my little girl.