Holy old cheezits. It’s happened.
My Diva is sixteen years old.
I truly don’t know where the time has gone.
I remember being 16. It wasn’t that long ago, dang it.
I was 16 just a couple of years ago. Honest.
And while I’m being honest, allow me to say that her turning 16 scares the ever loving crap right out of me.
Driver’s licences. Boys. Dating.
There’s not enough cheesecake on the planet to make that sound ok to me. I won’t even ask Wolf how he feels, because every time it’s mentioned in his hearing, he starts mumbling about buying a gun and needing hiding places. And getting *that* look in his eye, and that’s not good for anyone.
Dang. Sixteen. My first baby girl is sixteen. Wow.
I love you, my Diva. You’ve become an incredible young woman, and I look forward to cheering you on to your accomplishments, being there for the stumbles, and loving you and laughing with you through everything that is to come. You’re one of my favourite people, and I’m constantly amazed by you. If I’ve taught you even half of what you’ve taught me, I’m not totally sucking at this parenting gig. You are a precious, precious girl.
Love you, Baby Girl.
Happy sweet sixteen.