Overnight, my daughter grew up into a thirteen-year-old girl. A thirteen-year-old girl, with a bit of a mullet.*
She’ll officially be 15 months next week.
Ordinarily I like thirteen year olds- you can talk to them. They sometimes listen. We occasionally like the same tv shows and movies…
Then again, I’ve never been the parent of one. Until now.
1- Li suddenly likes to talk. Sure, it sounds like Klingon, but she’s still got something to say. A lot to say actually- and if sometimes it just sounds like screaming? That’s just because it’s so quiet in the store/library/church that someone should be talking.
2- She loves my cell phone. I have no idea where she figured out that a cell phone is meant to be held up to your ear- as I NEVER USE MY CELL- but there it is. My cell, her toy phone, a rectangular block of wood? You must pretend its a cell phone.
3- She’s hormonal. Seriously. Hungry? Tired? OMGWATCHOUT.
4- She gets a bit screetch-y when hormonal. Or when, you know…I want her to wear pants.
5- Drama queen. The dog brushed past her? MELT DOWN. Her cup fell out of her hand? MELT DOWN. I pick her up from the babysitter and she just wasn’t quite ready to be done playing with that paper towel roll? MELT DOWN OF EPIC PROPORTIONS.
6- She wants to do EVERYTHING on her own- even if she has no experience doing it. Feed herself scalding hot soup? You are a moron, Mama, let me show you how it’s done.** And by the way, can I borrow the car later?
*Why does the hair at the back always grow fastest on a baby? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
**Not that I would give her scalding soup- she really prefers coffee for dinner instead.