Mall girl

My grandmother told me once that even when you get into your 80's, you can't believe how old you are. I can imagine.

I wish she could advise me about how to process not only getting older myself, but experiencing my chlldren age.

When I'm sleepy or daydreaming, Stella appears to me looking like any one of these versions of herself:

It's almost as if I can't keep up with her present day self, which, in every passing hour, grows by the inch and the mental mile.





Last week, a major and odd milestone was crossed: Stella headed to the movies and the mall with a friend. I don't know that she's ever been to a mall; until recently, she called Target the 'new store,' (as opposed to all the thrift stores she was familiar with.) 

In her detailed debrief to me, she reported being unimpressed by the shops that fascinated her friend's older sister — places like Claire's, the nutty accessory store that strikes fear in my mother-of-a-someday-tweener heart.

After buying her movie ticket, she had about $10 left over to shop with. In classic Stella form, she spent it on flowers for Chris and me. "I wanted to get them for you for your date night."