HOT and COLD.

She is on top of me, smothering me, seeking every inch of my affection; she doesn’t want to share me. She wants to cuddle. She wants me to brush her hair, to tickle her back, to massage her. She wants to talk about boys. She wants to go shopping. She wants me to watch her dance. “Mommy, look! Look! Lookatme! Mommy! Mommy!” She loves me so hard, sometimes it’s almost impossible for me to breathe.

And then the door to her slams shuts and “It’s official! You are the very worst mother in the entire world!” bounces off the walls of her room. She whines and cries and complains, but won’t look directly at me; I am the enemy.

I am her best friend.

I am the bane of her existence.

I am her favorite.

I am her least favorite.

She is a child in flux.

She’s still only nearlyten but she always forgets this. She wants to be an adult so badly, she can taste it. She would rather sit with the grownups and eavesdrop on our conversations than actually PLAY. Playing is for babies, Mom. She would rather watch American Idol or Project Runway than Wizards of Waverly Place and any of the Zack and Cody shows. She would rather shop in Justice than go to Build-a-Bear. She would rather watch movies about Vampires and Zombies than about Fairies and Princesses. She would rather wear solid bikini underwear than anything with a licensed character on it.

But sometimes I will catch her being a kid. Wearing silly bandz. Playing with Lego. Listening while I read Isabella a story. Dressing a Barbie. Watching Spongebob. Building sand castles at the beach. Wanting the colored sprinkles on her ice cream.

My heart sighs and I smile.

Because even though she’s trying so desperately hard to shed that little girl, she’s still in there. For now. And I’ll take it while I still can.

And I know this is true. Because my mother once had a fourth-grader-in-flux who so desperately wanted to be a teenager too, but you know, occasionally wore bows in her hair. Along with her shoulder pads and up-turned collars.

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I was sitting by the edge of the pool, my legs dangling over the side, enjoying a little bit of reprieve without having to, you know, actually get in the water. I see a figure swimming under the water, approaching. I can only assume it’s Emily. And after she has grabbed my ankle and started to surface, I realize that it’s not a brown and white polka-dotted bikini on a brown-haired little girl, but a pair of blue swim trunks on a blond-headed little boy. A child who is not mine.

“I can see under water,” he says.

“You can?” I ask.

“Yes! Without goggles too. You are impressed, I can tell.”

“I sure am.”

“Are you coming in?”

“Eh. I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I am going to just sit here for a bit. I really don’t feel like getting wet.”

An overly outgoing kid, I thought.

And then all of a sudden I WAS IN THE WATER.

“Now you definitely have to come in! ha ha!” he says, and shoots me a huge smile.

“Um. OKAY. Thanks for that.”

“Here I come!” He yells and swims around and throws his arms around my neck. “I love this pool, don’t you?”

“Well, not any more.”

“What? It’s my favorite one in this whole place. I’m seven. I just lost a tooth last week. Wanna see? I have another loose one, but I don’t know when this one is going to come out. I just keep wiggling. I love swimming. Don’t you? Can I dunk you in the water?”

“No. Where’s your Mommy and Daddy? They probably would let you dunk them?”

“Well, I DON’T HAVE A DAD.”

…

“And I don’t know where my mom is. Somewhere by the lazy river, I think. That’s where she was this morning, I think. I don’t think I could dunk her though. She would be mad. She’s always mad.”

…

“Do you like hamburgers? I love them. But not cheeseburgers. I don’t know. I just don’t really love cheese. But you know what I do like? Your bathing suit! It’s so bright!”

“Hey, buddy. I think my family is leaving for the day. I gotta get out of the pool now.”

“Oh really? Aw, man. I think I’m probably going to be here for a while.”

“You are lucky. I have to go upstairs and take a shower. Boo.”

“HA! Yeah, that’s no fun. Hey…are you going to be here to play tomorrow?”

AHEM.

…and that was when I discovered that my 7-year-old friend was just doing what other 7-year-old kids do on vacation. He was making friends with other kids. Only he failed to realize that I am a 32-year-old mother of three, and not another kid left on her own to fend for herself while her mom tanned over by the lazy river. He thought I was, well, like her.

And now I feel kind of badly that I didn’t show up the next day to play.

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