That point where I move up a rung…
… and I become the mother of a tween.
Let me just say this: Holy Fucking Shit Balls, Mina — you’re EIGHT YEARS OLD.
I have a kid that plays on her DS and grunts at me when I ask her a question…
When the hell did that happen?!
One minute, I am writing all these cute little birthday letters, as a record of all the cute little things you say, with a faint idea…