Lexi always comes home from school with a folder full of papers. So, part of my nightly routine is to go through the papers and decide which ones hit the recycle bin. I was going through her folder on Tuesday night and found this:
For a closer look:
What? Isn't she still my little baby? Or, isn't she at least still just five years old?
So I asked, "Who's Cooper?"
"Don't worry Mom. He's a nice boy."
What???
I replied, "Well, I'm glad he's a nice boy, and it is great to have boys who are friends, but. . . "
"Well, I was going to write 'I Like Cooper,' but I like him more than just liking him."
"But you are five."
"Don't worry Mom. He's very nice and he sits at my table."
I am terrified of the tween/teen years.
So I asked, "Who's Cooper?"
"Don't worry Mom. He's a nice boy."
What???
I replied, "Well, I'm glad he's a nice boy, and it is great to have boys who are friends, but. . . "
"Well, I was going to write 'I Like Cooper,' but I like him more than just liking him."
"But you are five."
"Don't worry Mom. He's very nice and he sits at my table."
I am terrified of the tween/teen years.
