It was time to make a purge of The Girl’s clothes. Get rid of the flood pants and the shirts that are starting to look like crop-tops, but really aren’t crop-tops, because, goddamnit, my nine-year-old does not need to look like a prostitute in training, even if the clothing industry seems to think she does.
I’m not a nosey mom. I don’t go snooping through my daughter’s stuff, or sneak peeks at her diary. The fact of the matter is, I’ve never really needed to be nosey. She likes to show me her diary enteries. That’s because they consist of the following phrases, written over and over and over, “I love my mom and dad so so so so so so so so so so much!”
So when I came across a tiny little flower-shaped notepad buried under her clothes, I thought nothing of casually flipping through the pages. And they mostly consisted of what I expected to see, tiny drawings and declarations of love for her family. But then, oh god, then… I found a declaration that I wasn’t expecting. At least not for another couple of years.
“He is SO cute! I want to kiss him!”
And I died a little. Right there in the middle of my daughter’s room.