My baby girl, my first born, recently turned ten.
I know we've said or heard it a zillion times before but seriously, you blink and suddenly they go from a curly-haired moppet to an astute, droll, four foot eight, cello-playing, archery-loving, drama-loving kid who can't sit without grabbing a pencil and sketching a funny comic.
This sweet pea who used to hide behind my skirt when strangers tried to gush over her Shirley Temple curls now shines in solos in the school choir, joins every club available, and has her teachers talking up her good sense, her ability to stand up to those not doing the right thing, and her leadership qualities.
To say I'm super proud of this kid of mine is an understatement.
So of course this special milestone, this flipping of the book of her life from single digits to double, from little girl to pre-teen, called for a celebration. More than a celebration. As many as we could pack into her birthday week.
Starting with a mother daughter painting class at Cork and Chroma the day before - for those living in or visiting Brisbane who have a creative streak, it's a serious treat!
After school we surprised her with a birthday 'dinner' at Cowch - a dessert bar in the city. Heaps of family turned up to join us and she was in utter bliss.
We followed by our first ever trip on the Brisbane Wheel (one of those big ferris wheels that popped up all over the place around the year 2000). It's a first as I get vertigo so have always managed to avoid their desperate pleas. I spent the entire trip grinning like a maniac and trying not to let my kids see me sweat, so I see this as my most generous gift :).
Safe to say we ten-year-olded the heck out of that week. And since she's one of those magical creatures who never ever forgets a single thing, she'll remember every detail for a long long time.
As will I. For she's not my little moppet anymore. She's my ten-year-old moppet. And I won't let her forget that either.