My oldest daughter Dylan turned six yesterday.
So the day before her birthday, I tried to be super funny saying things like, “This is your last dinner as a 5 year-old!” And “This is your last bath as a 5 year-old!” I know. I’m a real riot. Anyway, it was a fun game til just before bedtime when she started hysterically crying.
“I don’t want to be six,” my daughter sobbed.
“Why not?” I asked confused.
“Because I want to be little. I don’t want to be big. I don’t want to do more stuff around the house.”
Hmmm…. I guess Rick and I came on a little strong with our big girl talk. Rick had spoken to her about doing more chores around the house. And I had declared that a 6 year-old really must wipe her own bum when she poops. Apparently, we turned her into a real nervous wreck.
So I talked her down from the 6 year-old ledge and assured her that I would wipe her tush for the rest of her life.
Or at least for a few more weeks.
And I explained that she already accomplished the hardest part of the whole year… starting kindergarten. And look at that, it’s already off her bucket list!
If she’s this torn up about her 6th birthday, can you imagine the fallout when she turns 30?!
Dylan finally calmed down and embraced her big day.
(Please now pause for cliche mother moment.) I don’t know how the last six years went so fast. I remember a beautiful little baby who pretty much refused to smile at the world…
And now I have this fabulous, creative girl with a gorgeous smile…
I love you Miss Dylan. Thank you for teaching me how to be a mother. Thanks to you, I think I’m getting the hang of it. xo