13 - How the hell did that happen?

Oh yes, thirteen.
Thirteen
Thirteen
Thirteen

Molly is 13 years old. I just cannot get my head round it.
You can tell how freaked out I am that I've actually put something up here about it.

Really, it's one of those things that simply creeps up upon a person.

One moment she's a tiny, wee baby, squawking away in my arms in the delivery suite. 

Next she's toddling away, then off to nursery, chatting, running, laughing, playing, smiling. 

Before you know it she's away for her first day at school, looking so grown up in her first uniform.

Then you blink and primary school is gone. The secondary school years roll round and round. And finally you materialise, almost magically, in a card shop buying a card with 13 written on it.

Really? 13 already? Where did the years go? I know they're filled with happiness and laughter, I know they are, every day an adventure, every day something wonderful and Molly shaped. But 13 years? That's (give or take a few to account for leap years) 4380 days of Molly, over 4000 days of happy smiles and belly laughs.

Where did they all go?

The weird thing is, no matter how many times I look back, no matter how fondly those baby years, or those toddler years, or those primary school years are looked back upon, I still maintain the belief that I've always held: the absolute best moment of being a parent, the absolute moment of bliss, of wonder, of pride, of happiness...... it's now. It always is now. No matter when now may be. It always will be, it always was.

Now.
Now.
Now.
Now.

But 13 Years. Wow. Love you Molly Bruton.