Hope has talked (and graffiti'd) about little else since, well, the 4th grade, really, other than maybe her oldest sister's senior prom (ACK!) her 11th birthday (UGH!) oh, and her 5th grade graduation (GAH!) all of which are happening in the same week, next month.
Aaaaand, I have absolutely NO CLUE how we will get through ALL these snot-worthy milestones (and by we, I mean mostly me!) because, the fact that I have a kid old enough to be graduating high school? Blows...my...mind!
What's left of it, anyway.
"What's this about you going to the dance with someone?"
My husband came home from work, must have read the front door and, well, you know, his "Hi, I'm [enter daughter's name, here] dad, want to see my shot gun collection?" was showing.
"Oh, you know, just some kid in my class."
Because, really, at this age? Kids get asked out at recess and break up by lunch time.
"His name is So-and-So."
[eyes go wide]
"Really, but I thought you were going with What's His Name?"
I mean, his name wasn't written on the front door, or anything, but that IS what she told me last week.
"I was, but not anymore."
Long story, short (you're welcome):
- What's His Name asked another girl, first.
- She said no.
- So, What's His Name asked Hope.
- She said yes.
- Then, the other girl changed her mind.
So, the little jerk...I mean...What's His Name un-asked Hope to the dance.
"Oh, but he asked her first and I'm okay with it."
Because, you know, she's 10 going on 29, tough as gel nails and, well, I want to be Hope when I grow up.
"That's REAL grown-up of you, sweetie!"
[one beat, two beats]
"So, can I get fake nails for the dance?"
She is quick, this one.
However, it's NOT my first time driving the mean bus and, well, she has until her senior prom to get over it...you know...when I'll probably be all wigged out (AGAIN!) and blowing snot (DITTO!) to even care that she's wearing spiked-stilettos...on her ears...even.
"Fiiiiiiiine, but I am NOT going to shave my legs!"
Good. Me, either.
© 2003 - 2012 This Full House