Monday, February 6, 2012

Watch This

You have experienced it.  Or you will.  It takes many forms but it happens fast:  Our youngest is growing up. 

Recently, she and a group of friends made plans to attend the seventh grade dance.  Yikes!  Before being whisked off to the school gym for the evening, a half dozen or so young ladies gathered in our living room for the obligatory photo session.  Digital technology, of course, has eliminated all the needless waiting:  There in the photo is our baby, elegant in her dazzling dress, specially coiffed hair and the … wait … what is THAT?!  On her wrist?!  With a face rivaling Big Ben in circumference and enough neon orange to open a small traffic cone factory, it’s … it’s … her eventing watch!!

You’ve just got to love it.  No dainty wrist accessory for this one.  She truly was raised in a barn, after all, dragged along in the car seat to all of her older sister’s earliest riding lessons.  There is no question that she is comfortable in her own skin-tight riding breeches.  If I’m granted the necessary life and breath, I will stand next to her one day – arm-in-arm we will survey the assembled crowd before beginning the long walk down the aisle toward her groom – and I won’t be at all surprised to look down to see a pair of riding chaps peeking out beneath her flowing white dress.  It happens fast.

Have an optimum time at the dance, my young beauty.

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