Girl of the Year – in our household, anyway

Almost twelve years ago our household was gifted with a beautiful, blue eyed fair princess.  Our guinea pig child, the first one to pave the way for two more.  Actually that’s a bit inaccurate; we practised on the hound for quite some years.  Almost twelve years ago we had no idea how that time would fly by.  We looked at parents of slightly older children (a whole 5 or 6 years old!!!) and thought how big those kids seemed (and how haggard much older those parents looked – eek), and couldn’t for a moment imagine that we’d be there sooner rather than later.  All of that stuff was forever away.  I blinked.  That little fair princess still has eyes which are a brilliant blue in some lights, fading to a lovely soft grey in others.  She still has milky white skin.  The baldy look has been (thankfully) replaced with the thickest mane of blonde hair.  She’d rather not be called a princess. Oops.

That blonde mane fresh out of its Bali braids earlier in the year.

That blonde mane fresh out of its Bali braids earlier in the year.

She is smart, funny, quirky and strong.  She is sensitive, empathetic and wise.  She has enviable ethics and a sense of social justice possibly beyond her years. She has overcome some big health obstacles and continues to triumph.  She is in her final few weeks of primary school.

Cue helpless inner wailing.  I now look at those parents of school leavers and know that it’s just another blink away.  That’s scary on so many different levels.  But you know what?  I’ve also decided that the kids are pretty perfect at any stage of their growth.  I’m just the privileged one to help them share their journey.  They’ll always be there, just continually morphing into someone bigger and better (I hope!!! No, I know.).  Still wailing on the inner though.

So in a few weeks’ time I’m going to clutch the hub’s arm and walk into that church with sunnies firmly planted and tissues in hand, to witness her graduate and to watch her dance that poignant dance that the Year 6 kids do each year.  God knows I’ve teared up each year for everyone else’s kids, heaven help me.

Wish me luck.  She won’t need it.  She’s just fine as she is.  A perfect specimen.  Our special girl.

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PS Writing now as won’t need another excuse for more soppiness when the time comes.  Send me good luck vibes, people! And virtual wine.

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