Baby Girl

You can still have fun. You are a child. You can put on wristbands, flare jeans and a big buckle belt. You can squeeze your tine chest into an even tinier Happy Bunny tee shirt. You can look sullen, depressed and mysterious, but I know you have another year before you are officially a teenager.

You are a kid. You want to go swimming with other boys and girls on a hot sunny day, but you can’t, because it’s that week. You say you don’t want to swim, and sit under the umbrella – so serious, so sad, and so adorably gloomy.

Other girls splash and scream, boys chasing them around the pool. You put your huge sunglasses on and feet up on the patio table. You are not going to have fun. A girl is holding a boy’s shoe above the water threatening to drop it in. He begs her not to ruin his new board shoe. Another boy throws a beach ball too far and it bounces off right next to you, sparkling water drops spinning as it hits the cement. You get up and lazily kick it back. Another assault – the girls are shooting water guns, nearly missing you. You yell at them to watch it.

It’s getting very hot, so you dip your hand in the pool and wet your face and neck to cool off a little. The next thing you know someone is trying to pull you the water. You jump back, screaming and almost laughing. Everybody joins in trying to grab your ankles and hands, pulling and splashing you. You run around the pull laughing, kicking the kids back, taking away their ball and squirt guns.

Your jeans are wet up to your knees and your tee shirt is drenched. You take off the wristbands and shoes and throw them in the pile of everybody’s towels, sandals and sunscreen lotions. You are so much a kid. You are a little girl. Don’ worry, you will grow up. But for now, I still have my sweet baby, and I am so happy you are having fun.