Growing Up

One of the hardest things I've had to do as a mother is let my daughter pick out her own clothes and do her own hair. It kills me. In a weird way, I've lost my favorite life size Barbie doll. So, I'm still nursing this wound on a daily basis, and I hate to admit that it has been the start of a few fights between Beth and I. This morning I walked by her room to see her holding up two shirts in front of Boswell, who is perched in his favorite spot on her bed. "Which one should I wear today?" she says in her sing song voice she reserves for the dog. "This one, or.....this one?" Apparently, which ever one the dog sniffs first is the winner. I think I said "sonofa" quiet enough that she didn't hear. I hate that dog!