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.