And Then She Was 12

My daughter is one. We’re at a grocery store. She’s strapped to me in a Bjorn baby carrier, kicking her feet, babbling away, smiling at strangers. A woman walks by. “Enjoy the moment,” she says. “They grow up fast.”

I’m thinking about my shopping list, the dinner I have to make, and whether we’ll be home before my daughter gets hungry or needs changing. I smile and keep…