Last night, as we were leaving church after a great night, Amy, my 11-year-old, spoke up:
“Dad, can we discuss my teenage years?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like, when I’m sixteen will you still be running my life?”
I know I’m the cliche father when I say I’m not ready for this, but I’m not. It really does feel like yesterday that she was making mudpies in the backyard with her brother.
What is even more interesting to me is the fact that she still likes making mudpies. As these pictures illustrate, she has always been a fascinating mixture of a child beyond her years—ready to run the world–who nonetheless still wants me to lay down with her at bedtime.
And I still want to.