My eldest daughter, whom I call Blossom for the purposes of blogging, turned 11 years old early this morning. I’ve been a mommy for 11 years. Huh. That sure went by fast.
Blossom wanted to dye her hair red as her birthday present. Since we are hard-asses about everything else, we give her autonomy over her hair and let her pretty much do as she pleases vis-à-vis cut and color. So now my baby has a mighty mane of scarlet tresses. She’s definitely got the personality to be a redhead.
I am continually fascinated by the person she is growing up to be. Her sense of humor is quirky, and her sense of wonder is vast. She loves with her whole heart, and (with the exception of cleaning her room) give 110% effort on everything she does. She loves to sing and act and read and draw and write stories. Like many girls her age, she is crazy about horses and dolphins.
Blossom is also the master of odd questions. For example, yesterday she asked me that IF she were a single-celled organism, what kind of single-celled organism would she be? I panicked and said yeast, then had to spend an hour finding complementary ways she was like yeast. At the end of it, she said that REALLY she thought she was more like an amoeba than yeast.
She is a wonderful little girl, and I am blessed beyond the telling to have her in my life.