To my big girl, mijn grote meid
Thirteen. A real, official teenager.
Teenagers. They are stroppy and moody. They eat and sleep all the time. They are messy and rude and answer in one syllable grunts.
So far there is very little of that in you. Yes, you eat all the time but in the last year you have grown an incredible amount. We now have the same shoe size, you have gone into adult clothes sizes and I wouldn't be at all surprised if you were to get even taller than me. You like your sleep too but there you take after your father - it's so hard to get you to bed in the evening, but then you catch up in the morning and are grumpy if your brother and I (who are both morning people) wake you up so we can have breakfast together. And yes, you are messy, but you were never likely to inherit the tidy gene with two fairly messy parents, were you!
You though, are cheerful, you are helpful and well spoken, you're
thoughtful and hard working, you're funny and great company. I miss you
when I haven't got you to come to town with me. I like watching telly
with you. I love our new thing of talking about books together. And you
know what? I don't think you will ever become that typical teenager.
It's just not, you.
At thirteen a child is well on its way to adulthood. A long way
to go yet - you still need me there in the background, making sure the
steps you are taking on your own in the big wide world are the right
steps, and to dry the tears if they turn out to be the wrong steps. But I
can see in you what you will be like as an adult. And it is so much fun
to be there with you along the way.
Happy birthday mijn grote meid, I'm so very proud of you and love you very much.