The Stages of Graduation from Childhood.

A few nights ago, my eldest daughter declared she was done with dolls.

More specifically, her American Girl dolls.

My heart sank.

It was crushed.

She spent the evening packing up her carefully curated collection of dolls, accessories, and furniture, and put them all into bins.

She had dedicated her fairly small, and shared bedroom, to this entire collection.

These toys were her world.

It was all she talked about on most days.

It was what kept her going during the holidays, those catalogs.

To see her decide it was now too baby, a tough pill to swallow.

But an accepted stage of the one of many "graduations" she will go through of childhood.

One I went through myself.

But one that is hard to accept as a parent.

Much harder than I would have imagined.

My oldest, a boy, travels largely under the radar.

He keeps to himself, and is quite successful both, socially, and academically.

He has graduated childhood phases as well, but quietly.

Fluidly.

Almost to a point I have taken his growth for granted.

Especially when I gave him a hug the other day, as I cooked dinner, and looked him straight in the eye.

When the hell had he become so tall?!?

My girls are vocal.

The make declarations.

DAILY.

They want all the world to know what it is they love, or hate, or are done with, or want to do.

What they want to pursue, or better yet, never do again.

My son doesn't talk as much as he just, does.

My girls like to make long dramatic statements.

Soliloquys.

Create fantastical narratives and stories.

They are never afraid to break out a good old soap box.

Some stories, making me beg to kidnapped, and others, reminding me I am still very much needed and loved.

This whole parenting thing is a lot rougher than Dr. Spock ever let on.

But anyways, after we moved boxes and boxes of stuff out of her room, to make its way to the basement, I let it sit there.

At the top of the basement stairs, but still in the kitchen.

Not having yet entered the "dungeon".

When she got off the bus that next day, she asked where I had put all of her AG stuff.

I responded that I truly hadn't figured it out yet, and it was waiting to have a plan before it was to be brought downstairs.

She had an uneasy look in her eyes about the fate of her treasured belongings, and immediately decided to return everything to her room.

I exhaled.

A small smile forming.

I still had my little girl for another day.

You see, that is what they don't tell you about parenthood.

That one day your child will want to move away from a hobby or collection, or toys that they had treasured without a second thought.

And it is natural progression, or rather a milestone.

One of many.

And not just for them, but for you.

But sometimes, just sometimes, they realize, they aren't ready to graduate to that next stage either, so for now I can put away my tissues, and continue to believe that my little girl, for now, is still my little girl.

But don't get me wrong, I still have that tissue box very, very close by.

Because I do know even though it wasn't today, little by little, small graduations are happening every day.

XoXo,

C.