Growing girl

I shudder at the thought of that girl being able to reach a phone, any phone, and dial a number (or I guess these days it’s punch a number) and make calls.

She does this now with some help (which theoretically means she has permission to call grandma). Still….

Last week she asked for the phone to talk to my mom and then left the room, phone at ear, looking very important. She came back to say ‘Nonno said to leave a message’ which means the voicemail kicked in. I told her to leave a message. She departed again chattering something I couldn’t hear. Then she pressed the red button to hang up and that was that.

Next day mom called and apologized that it wasn’t a good day to have a sleepover yesterday.

?

“What sleepover?” I asked.

“Sonja wanted to come for a sleepover, she left a message.”

Sigh.

Anyway, today I was out by myself running errands. I get a text from DH that Sonja called my mom and invited herself for a sleepover and mom’s coming over to pick her up.

I instructed him via text to help her pack. I specifically said to make sure she had enough warm clothing as my parents keep the house fairly cool, and to not forget bathing suit and pjs (mom usually takes her swimming).

I get home just in time. They’re there, dressed and ready to go. I look at my child. She is wearing a sleeveless summer dress that is more like a long top, winter tights with no feet, a winter coat, and boots from the handmedown bag which are at least two sizes too large.

I look at mom and she’s busy with DH fiddling around with her new Blackberry. I see that someone, probably my mom, grabbed Sonja’s snowsuit, but I’m not convinced her suitcase is packed quite to my expectation. It’s winter, it’s cold, there’s snow outside, she needs proper clothing, especially if she gets wet or dirty playing.

Right?

Sigh.

So to kill time while they’re still fooling around with the phones, I ask Sonja to show me what she packed. She’s so proud, and unzips her tiny princess suitcase, the one with the broken zipper (why didn’t he get her the larger, proper suitcase?).

I see:

1 pair of undies (good).
1 pair of socks (also good).
1 white long-sleeved top (fine, not the choice I would have recommended, but it’s long sleeved).
1 bathing suit (ok, she needs that for her trip to the pool).
4 stuffed animals (it’s not like my parents don’t have stuffed toys…but she has to have her sleeping toys).

That’s it. There was no pants, no tights, no jacket (given how she’s currently dressed), no clothes for tomorrow (given how she’s currently dressed), no pjs. No hat, not mitts, no shoes, no slippers. No second pair of undies (you never know) or socks (they will get wet if the boots leak). (Kids boots always leak). (Or snow gets into the boots).

I look at DH. “Didn’t you help her pack?”.

“What?” he says. “She showed me her white top.”

Sigh.

So I praise her for remembering the undies, socks and top, and remind her that she will probably need pjs, another pair of socks, some pants and tights, maybe an extra top…she’s a good sport about it and happily chatters while making her selection.

Then they leave together, my mom with her new cell phone and my child with her stuffed toys and broken suitcase.

I’m sure she’ll call at least 5 times to blow kisses, remind me to give her hugs when she comes home, and ask for reassurances that I do in fact miss her very VERY much.

She’s 5, going on 11. At least that’s what it seems like to me.

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