There is a point during parenthood when your child surpasses you in intellect and maturity (fortunately you have waves of this as said child is growing, so that it doesn't, necessarily, hit you like a ton of bricks) and you are no longer the person who is asked for help (how you wished for this when they were younger and that's all they ever did!) but rather the one who is humored and tolerated. And I don't mean tolerated the way an annoying drone is tolerated (sometimes), but tolerated in the way something old fashioned is. Yeah, that's old school, we don't do it that way anymore. I am not wistful about this, mainly because I am too busy in wonder: how did this girl get to be so,well, amazing?
From this child I have learned about:
shoes, jewelry and all things girly
stating my opinion without fear
and I have been reminded of:
sailor style burps
love at first sight
Happy Birthday Mo! Have fun in Vegas.