Yesterday Newt turned eleven. First thing in the morning, I shared this Sesame Street classic with her:

Mid-way through the second viewing she said, “Oh, I get it. This is because I’m eleven now.”
You know, when you get older, the mind is the first thing to go…

We had a lovely eleven day together ending with a quiet family celebration. At one point during the day, I looked over and realized that my little girl really is on the verge of becoming a young woman.
I like what I see.
She is sensitive and kind, smart and funny, creative, passionate about learning and (for the most part) respectful. Over the last year or so our relationship has udergone some wonderful changes. We are still mom and daughter, but we have also become friends. I truly enjoy spending time with her and relate to her in a totally different way than when she was younger. I’m getting tiny glimpses of what having an adult daughter may be like. Again, I like what I see.
Not that I am in any hurry to get there…
I have put in a request that she postpone turning 12 for a couple of years. It was denied.
I’m filing my appeal right now.
In the meantime, I think I’m going to enjoy eleven – however long it lasts.