Little Miss Independent

I know you're growing up, I do. And I know that's the way it goes.

Your baby grows up.

But yesterday, I was met with that reality in a way I just wasn't prepared to accept.

For the first time EVER, you didn't bring your "night nights" to me to put on. When I heard you coming to the table, I turned, expecting to take the jammies you picked out from your closet and help you put them on. I mean, that's how we've done it now for years...

But when I turned around, you had your "night nights" on, and there were no mishaps. No shirt turned backwards, no pants inside out. Your head wasn't stuck in the armhole.

It looked perfect.

You'd done it yourself. With no help from me.

With no help from me...

I felt a pang of regret at that moment, combined with a certain pride that you are growing up, smart and sassy enough to pick out your own clothes and put them on for yourself....

But I couldn't help but think: She doesn't need me to put her "night nights" on anymore.

And, apparently, this is how it goes from here on out. You learn to do things for yourself, make decisions for yourself, and me and my role diminishes until you are out in the world, wholly free and responsible to live your life and make your own decisions.

I am reminded of how little time I have with you in "The Grand Scheme of Things," and it makes me want to hold you, more tightly, just like this, just how we are now, so I don't miss a single second, a single opportunity, of life like this.

I want you to know that I am very proud of you, so proud of the little person you are becoming.

I love you, Little Miss Independent.