She was in a hurry to enter the world, making my obstetrician rush to the hospital, still dressed for rollerblading with his sons. He arrived just in time to deliver her, gown not even tied behind him, flannel shirt peeking out on his shoulder, looking ever so slightly flustered. This is how she has continued to make authority figures feel since then.
She was just too bright to be quelled in elementary school. She started turning in sub-par work in second grade, stuff we knew she could do. When asked why, she explained that it just wasn’t important to her – it was too easy, why bother with it. We worked on the administration and pushed to get her tested, and the next year she started fourth grade, which was probably still too easy.
She marches to her own drummer, both figuratively and being independent in her choices of music. She wore bracelets from wrist to elbow every day for years, until last year. She had long, hip-sweeping hair and never cut it until this year. She got her first driving permit yesterday. She finished a whole novel last November for NaNoWriMo and is an incredible writer. I know this, even though she won’t let me read anything she has written unless it is a school assignment. She knows where she wants to go to college and for what, and is not swayed one iota by the boatloads of college literature she gets every day or the personal phone calls asking her to consider their university. She bought dinosaur plates, napkins, and balloons for her party tonight, with a sly grin on her face.
Today my second daughter turns sixteen. Sweet.