|Ready for the dance...|
It is G's freshman year. She's going to be 15 years old. And I just don't have an inkling of how that happened. It just seems like yesterday that she was dancing around the house in her sweet little girl dresses, singing Oops I Did It Again, and pestering me to change the focus of the video camera to her and not The Pill: "Tape me now mom, tape me...is it my turned to be taped?"
I almost cry when I see the competent athlete she is on the volleyball court. I almost cried yesterday as I watched her ride on the freshman float rather than enjoy the Homecoming parade by my side. I almost cried at how beautiful she was as she was getting ready for her first Homecoming dance. And I remember how I used to wait so anxiously for the firsts: when would she say her first word? take her first step? read her first word?
Now I want the firsts to stop. I would go back to those baby, toddler, and little girl days in a heartbeat. Not because I don't absolutely adore the young woman she's becoming, but just because I am not ready for her to become her yet.