

Double digits. Our guinea pig baby is now ten. TEN. As a mother this birthday seems incredibly significant - a decade into parenting.
She is nearly a third as old as I am.
Whoa.
In the space between 9 and 10, this girl has made some serious milage.
She has graciously allowed the process of being uprooted from our home and school to happen around her, grieving but walking quietly into the next phase.
She has been supportive and helpful.
She has gone courage in hand to a new school in a new city - without a fuss - and made more friends than she knows what to do with.
She has tried new things, a challenge for her, and has succeeded in what she has put her hand to. She has danced and sung with uncomplicated generosity of spirit.
She has talked with adults with upheld head and clear eyes.
She has read more books than there were days in her year.
She still reads her dragon allegories over and over and they are becoming tatty and worn, a sure sign of book-love.
She smiles easily.
She does not tear up often.
She is diplomatic and gifted with communication, struggling sometimes to be honest when she knows it might hurt someone else, a great awareness to possess.
She has a respect beyond her years and greatly hesitates to disobey us.
Her legs go on forever. Her feet are growing so fast that she has gone through 4 sizes this year, too big for my shoes now.
Cell phone, mp3 and computer skills means she speaks a whole different language to how we would have spoken at the same age.
And we are caught staring from that weird place where you can catch a glimpse of the person the child you made is becoming. Independant of you. But wholly dependant at the same time.
What a thrill.
Ten is very cool for her.
And a little scary for us.
This sweet girl is growing up...
Read more...