13.

Thirteen.

How is it even possible that this little muffin…

…is officially a baker’s dozen?

(Well…officially tomorrow)

Some days I cannot believe that she has been on this earth for thirteen whole years.

Some days I cannot believe that she has only been on this earth for thirteen short years.

This past year was a particularly amazing one for Miss Emily.

She danced at the halftime show at The Raptors game — twice.

She passed three levels in swimming — she’s almost ready to be a lifeguard.

She took the Red Cross Babysitting course and is ready, willing, and able to babysit for all of your kids. {Hire her!}

She started playing the baritone — even if she can’t carry it by herself.

She got straight As — again.

She signed with a new agent which quickly led to her first big parts—a television show debut and a starring role in a short film.

It takes the average person roughly 17 seconds with Emily to realize that this pint-sized little thing is just a very special person.

A very special teenager.

Some days I worry about these teenage years ahead of us.

Right now she still likes to cuddle and snuggle and play with my hair. Right now she still likes to tell me everything — a play-by-play of who likes who and who doesn’t like who. Right now she’s my best sidekick and shopping partner.

I have flashbacks of how I was between the years of 1991-1996 {and every time I do I want to pick up the phone and apologize profusely to my mother} and I see screaming and door slamming and attitude and sass and backtalk and folded arms and eyerolls and silence.

The silence. 

So some days I worry. I worry that she’ll stop cuddling and confiding and sidekicking.

I hope she’ll never stop, because she’s one of my most favorite people.

She made me a Mama on March 8th, 2001.

And I have been very lucky one ever since.