I lost the front seat of my car on Wednesday. It was a wonderful storage place for my coat, library books, bag... It was a great place, that front seat. And now, it's gone.
Or not gone, I suppose, so much as Occupied.
In the state of Washington, one is legally allowed to ride in the front seat of the car when one is 13.
And Clover is.
I find this to be a level of Shocking that I have not previously experienced. Though I am somehow surprised by their new ages every year, this year has really caught me off-guard. Thirteen. A teenager. Oy.
We made a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cake for her birthday.
"Get it, Dad? Get it?" she asked. "Teenage mutant ninja turtle?"
He smiled and nodded at her. "Yep, I get it."
"Get it, K? Get it?" I asked. "Teenage Mutant?"
He laughed. He got it.
She has her teenage mutant moments, of course. We all went through that, some more (or less) gracefully than others.
Those moments, though, are not the important ones. Those are not the ones I'll be remembering.
Instead, I'll be remembering her pulling back her hair with a grin, to reveal her newly pierced ears.
I'll be remembering her (sometimes outrageous) experiments with make up.
Her enthusiasm for new adventures.
Her emerging responsibility and independence.
Her sense of humour.
I have very fond memories of her earlier years, but I have equally wonderful memories of the past year-- and I have no doubt that 13 will bring much love, laughter, and fun.
So bring it on, teenage mutant. I'm excited for all of it.