Growing Up

My Polliwog hit 17. There are challenges with that. Such as, I am now doing everything wrong. If I treat her like a child, she wants to be thought of as an adult (and tells me in the most childish way). If I minister to her like an adult it is at the one moment she wants me to make her breakfast and sit on my lap (which is like a great dane puppy sitting on my lap). Though I don't mind this transition too much, I mind the mind-numbing game that comes with it. I don't have a copy of the rule book, which is unfortunate, because I could use it right now.

I know this is a part of growing up. It just is a maddening part. In all fairness, I was probably much worse on my parents. And, if you asked them, they would probably give you lots of examples. Well, my mother would, she remembers them all.

That said, I am so tickled to see my sweet girl almost grown up--and she did it so well. She has a strong work ethic. She is poised and discerning. She has little room in her life for BS. She enjoys the company of those older and younger. She doesn't give in to the sexualized nature of society many of her peers fall into. Boys are interesting, but she doesn't need one to complete her identity. She has strong opinions, ones she can back up with more than "because I feel that way." Her moral compass is always pointed in the right direction. In my estimation, she's turned out pretty awesome.

I would tell her so, but I am not sure which version of Polly I have right at this second.