This morning, the children and I were all up by 7, rather early for us. Actually, Simon and I were up by 6:20, but I digress. Since Luis was already out at the carwash supervising the final renovations before we reopen on Monday, the children and I laid in bed snuggling and talking. I forget what the conversation started with, but I made the mistake of telling Abigail that she was getting big. Suddenly she was almost in tears.

I rearranged a few small bodies and snuggled Abigail close so we could quietly talk about why she was so upset. She is worried that time is going too quickly. As she said "It is my last single digit year. I'm not ready to be double digits yet." She isn't ready to grow up, and she is worried about it. It led to a long talk about how we age and mature at just the right rate for ourselves. A few years ago, she wasn't ready to be nine, but now that she is, it is okay, and by the time she is 16, 18 or 20, she will be ready for that too. We talked about how she will always be my baby and how I'll still be able to snuggle her even when she is grown up, if that is what she wants.

All in all, it was a good conversation, and she seemed to feel calmer afterwards. However, the entire time we were talking, one thought stayed in the back of my head. Who is going to talk me through her becoming "double digits?" Regardless of what I told Abigail, time is going too quickly.