It's official. We are on the cusp of that glorious time known as Puberty.
We know she is Growing Up. Some of us have been more
Cinderella had her yearly checkup last week.
(I took her as my first attempt at getting back to being the involved parent that we all need me to be.)
She wanted to see the female doctor of the group because she is Growing Up.
I left the room for the most part of the exam. This older kid doctor stuff is foreign to me. I had to ask the nurse and then the doctor. Do I stay? Do I go?
I left. Because she is Growing Up and also because of two little rugrats who-shall-remain-nameless who were intent on making this momentous event even MORE difficult by touching.everything.in.the.room Can we NOT open and close every single cabinet and drawer, please? and You! Boy! Can you stop with the potty expletives every millisecond Mommy is trying to talk to the doctor all grownuplike. GAWD!
Exam over, Cinderella comes out to the waiting room and I go back in for the News.
She's quite an extraordinary young lady. She is very well educated on her body. Knows what's going on and what to expect.
Oh, yes. We know that. She's been reading books, you know. Her father barely survived that chapter.
Well, she is developing. It's definitely starting.
Yes. Thank You. I knew that. Did I forget to mention that she is Growing Up????
Come home quickly plop children in front of television and try to educate my totally uncool self on all things that the cool kids are doing.
Step 1: Create a myspace account.
Step 2: Die.
(Myspace is a scarey, scarey place for kids, y'all. We are so fucked.)