I don’t think my daughter ever played dress-up.
She had some gypsy stuff and leftover Halloween costume props that would surface as perfectly acceptable school accessories, but she never walked around in my heels or wanted to wear my work clothes.
Now I know why.
Katlyn is my oldest and today she turns twenty-three. She has one semester, one class actually, left until she graduates and she now has a full-time job working for the Mayor of Phoenix.
She dresses up every day and seems a little pissed there aren’t tiaras or animal crackers in a cup as a morning snack.
I’m not really one to say “time flies” because it didn’t. I was there through her Band-aids, braces, boys, and boobs, in no particular order. She’s grown into the woman she is today gradually, which is a good thing because she has never, ever, ever wanted to grow up.
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