Don’t get older. Just not yet.

I took the 9-year-old to Home Depot. Because kids really love it when you drag them to Home Depot while you contemplate, for 30 minutes, which poison will kill spiders the quickest.

Lately, I’ve been staring at the 9-year-old and can’t believe she’s going into the fourth grade. I still remember when she was two and she’d pinch her little brother when no one was looking. When we’d ask her what happened, she’d shrug her shoulders and point at the dog.

I know the time is coming soon where I’ll be one frown away from being lame mom. She’ll get to that age where we’ll argue about piercings, where she’ll shut herself in her room and her only form of communication with me will be through eye rolls and sighs, where boys will come to our house and Carl and I will wonder what the hell she sees in any of them.

But today is not that day and I can breathe a little easier for now.

Me: Hey, do you wanna get in the cart and I’ll push you down the aisle like those bobsledding guys and then I’ll let the cart go and see how far you can go?

9-year-old: Yeah! Let’s see if the cart can go under that forklift there!

God, I love this kid.

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