Late Bloomer

I hope my daughter is a big ol’ nerd, er, late bloomer (at least until the summer right before she goes off to college). Then she can blossom just like Tony Danza’s daughter in “She’s Out of Control.” She’ll lose the braces, get contact lenses, and finally brush her hair. Hopefully she’ll skip the jogging in slow motion on the beach to the Twix music. You know the song, the one that goes “Mmmm bount bount /ahhh /chicka chickaaaaa.”

Her new look will be acceptable since she’ll already have given her speech as valedictorian at her graduation and missed all those lame high school parties where her peers will either get knocked up or arrested or both. Then she can go off to college and do whatever she likes away from Mummy’s watchful eye. Well maybe not whatever.

I want my daughter to remain a kid as long as possible opting to take her pet bird to prom rather than a handsy teenage boy. I don’t want her to rush through life, like (I think) I did. But is it inevitable that she’ll always be looking to the next stage?

I tease that I raised myself as I was very independent at an early age. By independent I mean that I potty-trained myself and was born knowing how to read but I still relied on my parents for the essentials.

My hubby jokes that I was never a child much like Manny on Modern Family. His character is wise beyond his years enjoying poetry and Canasta. Some might say an old soul, some might say a stick in the mud.

As a Mummy with an old soul it’s been somewhat challenging to channel my inner-Elmo on a daily basis. But it’s a good thing. Maybe if I leave my old soul in the dust and act like a silly goose then I have a better chance of keeping my little girl little for as long as possible.

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