Coming Home to an Empty House

It was a milestone day today.   We gave Chloe a house key because Papa needed to pick Sophie up from school to take her to her first French class (a milestone in of itself).  Our big girl made it home from the bus in one piece, unlocked the door, hung out for about 90 minutes all by herself and locked the door behind her as she left for her mother’s helper gig.  And she still had the key when she came home this evening.

When I asked her to practice locking and unlocking the front door last night, she looked at me like I was  an extraterrestrial.  “Mom,” she said in her tween exasperated tone, “I know how to open and close the door.  I do it all the time when Esperanza is here.”  Well, excuse me for being a concerned parent, Chloe.

Every time I tell her that one day she’ll understand my worries when she’s a parent herself, she rolls her eyes and huffs.  Let’s face it, at her tender age and in her “I-know-it-all” world, I am nothing more than a source of annoyance to her.  Like a beetle or a fly.

And yet, despite her attitude, she babysat herself today for the first time.  My little girl is growing up and even better, she knows how to lock the front door.

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