In yesterday’s post, I fretted over the stupid things the girls might do as teenagers, just a few too short years away (at least in Chloe’s case). But I received a photo of Chloe today that assuaged my fears and made me think that maybe sleep won’t completely elude me over the next couple of years.
In the end, my Chloe is still only 10 years old. It’s easy to forget sometimes, especially when she talks about how much she likes “Criminal Minds” or “Fringe,” when she talks about her favorite books or when she acts like a judgmental 16-year old. But today those memory lapses were cured by a simple photo.
Yes. That’s Chloe at a playground fooling around on a spinny thing that in most towns no longer exists because it’s considered a danger to children everywhere. But not in Ithaca (those rebels). Chloe still lives for that spinny thing – and every summer, she goes to that park to visit it.
So, for all of the “I’m a 16-year old in a 10-year old’s body” bluster, my Chloe is still just a kid. Who still loves the playground. And will probably still love the playground when she’s 18 and looking for a place to drink the alcohol she and her friends will have illegally obtained from the local liquor store. Enough already! I’m pretend hitting myself because I need to stop projecting. Now.