eight

Actual exchange:

Me: You have 3-D glasses? (said as she pulls out at least 10 pairs of 3-D glasses)

The BFF: Yeah. It's a long story. 

Eight Year Old: She has time, you can tell it.

That eight year old, I swear, she is getting so big. And in some ways, she is still so very small. Previously in the evening I actually said "Tough shit, do it anyway." to her. I know! The cursing! But her mother is a loud New Yorker type so shit is not really a curse word. This is also the child who, while watching Dora on TV got frustrated and said "It's behind the damn tree Dora! This still makes me laugh. I know. I am going to hell. Anyway, I don't like being harsh with her. She is tender and delicate and as my mother called me growing up, tenderhearted. I didn't like telling her that she would just have to suck it up because part of growing up is learning that you have to do things you don't like or don't want to do (all this over taking a SHOWER), but sweet Lord, she's only eight, must everything be an issue? Is this how early it starts, all of the sass and attitude and emotional everything? I try to remember what it was like to be eight, and then I quickly try to forget. That was not a good year for me.