It seems like only yesterday she was in my belly,
being blessed by a random Asian dude.
Did I say stunned? Angry. So. Angry.
Bad, bad time.
Am I a MILF yet?
PDaughter has this week off from school. Tomorrow she's going to the movies with her *choke* boyfriend for her birthday. Like, you know, a date. Because she's 15 and dating. So she's going on a date.
I'm going to babble incoherently for a while.
Hey! Did you know that original Beatles drummer Pete Best and serial killer Ted Bundy both share a birthday with my kid? Also, Lee Harvey Oswald and Freddy Mercury both died on her birthday. And, um, the first World Cup for the Blind began on the same date, in 2006.
OK, that last one made me laugh. Which is a terrible, terrible thing, laughing at blind people playing soccer. But I really, really needed a laugh. Sorry, blind soccer players.
Usually it's only the refs who are blind,
Anyway. Fifteen. She no longer gets toys for her birthday, or has parties at the arcade. She doesn't even want a cake for her birthday; she wants a pie. That may be more a my-kid-is-weird thing than a growing-up thing. But all I can think of is the birthday when I worked my butt off to make and decorate a Pokeball cake, and how big her smile was when she saw it.
She finally got rid of the last of her Pokemon stuff just this year.
Well, except for the little Psyduck figurine that still sits on the passthrough between the kitchen and the family room.
Maybe she's not changing as quickly as I think.
Happy Birthday, my beautiful Precocious Daughter. I can't think of anyone I'd rather grow old because of.