Three little girls sat in the back of the car. They were going to the same venue. The school social. There was an air of excitement. The excitement that comes with being twelve and heading out after dark. Indonesia, Australia, South Africa, it’s amazing how three little girls born in three different countries all end up speaking the same language – the language of tween.
One of the girls is in a dress.
The other is in shorts and is carrying a rugby ball.
The one in the middle, is just that, somewhere in the middle, she has a sparkly top with a jeweled hair clip, jeans and converse sneakers.
“So what happens at the social?” I ask.
“We dance” says the dress.
“We play football” says the shorts.
“You’re going to have a hard time tackling in that dress” giggles the little brother, he sees his role as the entertainer.
They all roll their eyes.
There is talk about high heels, they are deemed unnecessary. Someone at school has them already, will she wear them? There is talk about Facebook, one’s already signed up, one “doesn’t have the time” and one’s Mummy won’t let her until she’s thirteen. “I’m not sure if I want to though” I try not to smile. For I am the Mummy.
I ask the shorts if she thinks she’ll join her sister at boarding school.
“What’s that?” asks the dress from Indonesia.
“It’s where you go to school and then you sleep there as well.”
“Oh, kind of like the movie Wild Child?”
I jump in quickly “nope, I don’t think it’s like Wild Child – I think it’s more like Harry Potter”
Please God let it be more like Harry Potter, I’d prefer oversized snakes and wizards than mini skirts and heavy eyeliner.
I know – it’s a fantasy.
Even Hermoine couldn’t escape the heavy eyeliner.
At the gate we discuss times, phone calls and pick ups. They are all beautiful. I watch for just that little bit too long as she enters the gate. Her pony tail swishes in the distance. I know she’s uncertain and sometimes lost, but she’s determined to find out more. She’s learning the language, and making her way into a new world.
It’s new territory for all us. One minute I’m driving, I’m listening, I’m directing.
The next, I can only look on from a distance.
I sooo soooo feel like that with my nearly thirteen year old.
My husband said tonight, “Why are you still driving her to school? It’s not dark in the mornings any more, or snowing.”
My response. “Because I get her for ten minutes and usually we’re either singing or laughing as I drive.”
I crave every second.
I love this. My 12 nearly 13-year-old boy won’t go to the school dances. I think he is too scared of The Dress 😉
Michelle
I am looking forward to it and dreading all at once. (I hope they all had a lovely time…)
xx
its bittersweet… my girl is now 16… and when I sat down in the passenger seat while she drove the car for the first time, I cried. not because I was afraid, but because I couldn’t help but think how did that happen? One minute she was this small little person being placed in my arms, and now she is sitting beside me driving a car!!! and my heart ached, and swelled with pride all at the same time…
Goosebumps…I have 3 little girls under 6, still very happy driving and directing. I’m not sure if I’m excited or scared about the road of “tween”. Beautifully written. I hope the view stays pleasant.
ditto what you said. tonight i’m not going to a party i’d looove to go to because i am playing chaperone to a bunch of pre-teen hormones. apparently there are boyfriends involved. apparently my husband has to work tonight. i may even need to remain sober. god, i’d love to be irresponsible and go to that party instead. but the conversations i get to listen in on are gold!
She’s nearly 13?? Bloody hell where did the time go – seems like only yesterday she was teaching me to ski
beautifully written . as mum to be of a little girl this is all ahead of me 🙂