It doesn't matter what we want, really. Time passes quickly, and there's nothing we can do to stop its sometimes heartless march.
It happened Thursday.
Daughter is no longer a little girl.
She is a woman.
With a Facebook account.
Yes, kids, that's right. The girl is on Facebook.
* * *
So what do I now have? Two Facebook accounts. One that is my real one, the one I feed my tweets to, the one where I can curse with wild abandon. And then there's the other one, the shell I set up just so I could friend Daughter and, eventually, Youngest. [I have no expectation that Eldest will ever make the plunge into Facebook. He just finds the whole concept ridiculous. This from a kid whose social circle is comprised of other teen friends playing Xbox Live.]
I will try not to be too bent out of shape that Daughter has nearly as many FB friends as I do, in a span of mere days.
So this is what it feels like to watch your daughter blossoming into womanhood whilst you shrivel up, wrinkled and gravity-damaged, into a corner, never to be asked to dance again whilst her dance card is brimming over.