There's no denying that the 6th grader is maturing. It's an insidious creep of concern about clothes and hair and wanting to wear makeup. And asking for a "real bra" instead of the stretchy sports sort, not that she really needs the former since the latter is still sufficient. Hope springs eternal, though. Plus I finally caved and let her start shaving her legs last summer. Only a prepubescent girls get excited about this sort of chore. In a few years she'll be begging me for laser treatments or waxing.
This year, in 6th grade, she's now old enough to attend the middle school dances that are hosted once per quarter. Each of the houses - Saxons, Normans, Romans and Vikings (not as catchy as Slytherin or Hufflepuff, but whatever) - takes turns hosting a dance with a theme, decorations, snacks and DJ. She and her friends have really gotten a kick out of boogeying down on the dancefloor, aka cafeteria.
The latest dance, held on Friday, was the winter semi-formal, and the teen helped her little sister get all beautified by curling her hair and putting on some light makeup. Ollie, her furry little brother, was photo bombing... just like a real human one would do, though he can't put bunny ears behind her head since he lacks the height. And opposable thumbs.
Maybe this is a second child phenomenon, but it just seems like she's growing up a zillion times faster than her older sister. She's it, the kid caboose since we stopped with two. Not that I long for a larger family because I don't. Sometimes I just wish I could push pause on the clock's tick tock of time and really enjoy the ages and stages where they are. Because in the blink of an eye it will be just me and the husband (and dog) staring at the TV on a Thursday night, wondering what the girls are up to out there in the world leading their own lives.
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