You would put your hand on my belly to feel the baby kicking. You loved the new life that was stirring inside of me. Sometimes I would let you rub an ice cube on my belly to awaken your brother, and we would laugh when we saw a tiny foot or elbow move across my stretched skin.
As if this sort of comment in a seventh-grade gym class wouldn't be enough to put a target on her, my daughter offered one last comment to a growing chorus of dissenting opinion: "I should know what a fruit is. My dad is a botanist."
The movie really is suited for older tweens as there is plenty of drama and intensity. Prior to and following the premiere, I asked some parents and kids in attendance for their views and reactions to the movie.
I was excited to watch my big guy hit these marks because they were all so new, and I had no idea what it would ultimately mean. This time, I know. I know it is the end of an era. It means saying goodbye to a much simpler time.
In all walks of life and at any age, nothing to wear can masquerade as a closet full of clothes. But when you're an 11-year-old girl in junior high, this is akin to a catastrophic wardrobe malfunction, not just another bad day.
The other day, my son looked at me with those same wide eyes that once asked, "Mommy, when I'm older will you marry me?" and asked, "Mom, I'm getting older, doesn't that mean I should start wearing Hollister?"
The very best thing about having a tween is seeing them transition from little girl to big girl. Even when they feel like strangers, even when they hide under the covers or the exam table, even when they fly to Mars, they are your babies.