Tomorrow, my daughter enters the fourth grade.
She is beautiful. So beautiful. And loud, and temperamental, and opinionated. And, in her own words, "smart and crazy".
She looks so tall to me. I know she isn't, not even for her age, but she looks tall. She's tan from her summer of swimming every day; she's growing her bangs out, and the sweep naturally to the side of her face.
She does not walk when she can run. She writes (and draws) comic books, because she wants to be just like me. She tells kids at school how cool I am.
She drives me freakin' crazy sometimes. Two headstrong chicks in the same house!
She's my miracle. She saved my life.
I'm 30 years old, and I have a daughter who is starting fourth grade tomorrow.