pickle and her daddy
Pickle. She's 14. She's heading into high school. She's beautiful (I'm not biased). She has had two junior-high-versions-of-boyfriends. All facts. I know these things. AND I know how things work...
And then yesterday. Church service was several minutes from beginning. Pickle sat in one of the rows towards the front with Bubba, holding a seat for me. My hubby was in the sound booth and was wiring me up to give the announcements that morning. All normal-type stuff.
I casually glance over at Pickle. She is turned around in her seat talking to someone. A boy. I didn't recognize the back of his head...so I casually wander up there and see that it is a young man from youth group that I don't know well yet. He is a few years older than Pickle and has apparently come over to talk to her specifically. As they chat, up walks another young man I know a bit better--one year older than her, and a friend of hers. He explains that he hasn't talked to her in so long! How is she? I note he has crossed the room to see her.
I walk back to the rear of the room and observe. My baby girl. Talking. Laughing. Smiling her killer smile. At two boys who came to her. Deep breath, mama. I remind myself it's developmentally normal. I'm glad she is learning to relate more easily to boys as friends. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
And it really hit me. She is NO LITTLE GIRL ANYMORE! She's a young woman. Wait! Pause! I want more time!
And then she posts this picture of herself on facebook after messing around with her hair.
Ohmy. I better buckle in.