During a walk home from the park with
my daughter, my little one started to talk about her best friend,
AND how the two of them decided to get married someday (she told me
he already asked and she replied yes, but he has not asked for my
permission yet...)
I, of course, looked at her and smiled,
and told her she would not be getting married for a number of years,
and maybe she, or he, may change her, or his, mind before then.
She has plenty of time to think about
when, and who, she is going to marry. Also, if her father has his
way, she will not be marrying until she is at least 40.
I then took her little hand in mine,
looked at her, and said, “Besides, you cannot legally marry until
you are at least 18 years old, that will be 13 years from now.” (I
skipped the part about getting parental permission or getting
yourself declared an adult.)
As soon as I said the words '13
years', I immediately
felt a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. Though I know
logically that 13 years is a long time from now, it really
does not feel that far away. In a little more than a decade, my
little baby will be legally a grown up!
Where did the time go? And how in the
world can I stop her from growing up, or at least, prevent her from
becoming a teenager...
Then she looked up at me with her big
innocent eyes and told me 18 is very old – if she thinks 18 is old,
what am I? Some sort of ancient hag?
She then shrugged her shoulders, and
told me yeah, maybe he or she will find someone else. And, she
happily skipped off to play.
It made me kind of want to freeze her
at this age forever.
from this...
to this in a blink of an eye... sigh...
ring picture courtesy of Johanna Ljungblom
