Today we had one of those pivotal moments in life when you suddenly realize your little girl is growing up. We took the girls to McDonald's for dinner because we had worked all day in the yard and didn't have the energy or inclination to cook. I started ordering for everyone, like usual. But when I got to the girls and said, "We'll take two happy meals. . ." I was quickly interrupted by Hannah with a decisive, "No, I will have number six." I stopped and looked at her, but could find to reason to object. It was a chicken sandwich anyway, so no worse than nuggets. Better really, because it was grilled. Clearly the happy meal toy had lost its appeal. So I said, "Okay." And left it at that.
Then to further establish this new maturity Hannah calmly stated she was too old for the playground. To make her point she walked over and stood next to the "you must be shorter than this line" sign next to the playground. It was marked at four feet, and sure enough, she was a good four inches taller than the cut off line. More amazing was that she really did not seem to care.
She resumed her seat and quietly polished off her meal, concluding with, "Next time I think I will try the Chicken Ranch combo meal. Should I remind her that she is only eight? Even as I wonder that I can't help but think, "Good heavens, I have an eight year old." But stressing over it seems futile, because by the time I come to terms with it, she will be nine, or ten, or sixteen anyway. I think I will just enjoy these moments as they come and try not to blink.
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