Yesterday Emily came home from school, dropped her book bag on the floor, slapped a permission slip for the first school dance on my desk and started begging for me to take her to CVS to buy M Magazine.
My head started spinning. A dance? A teeny bopper magazine? Something about wanting to hang posters and clippings in her locker? Then the phone rang and she had to go in the other room "to take the call." I heard giggling and dance discussion. Oh my... she is officially a tween.
I guess I should be happy that she doesn't care that I told her Matt was going to chaperon the dance (it was a scare tactic that didn't work). And that the stars she is hanging in her locker have so far managed to stay clear of drug rehabs. And most importantly, I don't have the plague and she still wants me around.
It seems like just yesterday I was begging my mom for Tiger Beat and Bop magazines and hanging Kirk Cameron and Chad Lowe in my locker. Now it is my daughter doing the same.
Lord help me... I'm a mother of a tween.