My daughter is nearly twelve, and I can’t help but think she’s quite mature for her age. (Yes, I’m biased, but witnessing your father’s battle with brain cancer can speed up emotional growth.) For the past few years, I’ve noticed her experimenting with the idea of becoming a young woman, inching away from her childhood roots. There were hints of the adult she would become, yet she still retained much of her youthful spirit. Until yesterday. In an instant, I blinked, and the child I knew seemed to vanish.
Yesterday, I invited her to join me for a nail appointment while her little brother was preoccupied. As always, I let her pick the salon. I anticipated her usual choice—the one with the “rainbow water,” where the foot tub lights change colors. Instead, she shrugged and said, “eh, whatever’s closer.”
For some time, she had been dabbling in “grown up” activities, feigning interest in teenage trends. Occasionally, she’d dismiss the “rainbow water” only to change her mind at the last moment. She’d donate toys but would hesitate, clutching onto a teddy bear she couldn’t let go of. She’d retreat to her room but would soon reappear, curious about what her brother and I were up to.
But yesterday was different. The way she casually mentioned “whatever’s closer,” along with her indifferent shrug, marked a shift. The excitement that once surrounded the “rainbow water” was gone. In an instant, she transitioned from child to young adult, and I missed it.
This change has been building for years. She’s been actively discovering her identity and what she wants to become. I’ve tried to cherish every moment, knowing the significance of “lasts,” which are often more fleeting than “firsts.”
There are already so many “lasts” I failed to memorize—like the last time I rocked her to sleep or the last time she reached for me to pick her up. Moments like her saying “I love you” but it sounding like “abubu” due to her speech delay are now lost to time. I never intended to overlook the last stages of her childhood.
Yet, I did. I blinked, and I missed the moment she evolved into a young adult.
Instead of visiting the nail salon with the rainbow water, we opted for a more convenient location. I can’t recall if there were colorful lights in the water; my focus was on the young woman beside me, who had transformed overnight. For the first time, she chose a muted gray polish instead of a bright color. She confidently answered questions on her own, without looking to me for guidance. Even her topics of conversation and the way she spoke exhibited maturity.
It felt like a loss. I adore this young woman, and I’m already proud of her, but I mourn the child she was just a day ago. Parenthood is a delicate dance between reminiscing about the past and anticipating the future.
Later that evening, my son looked to his sister, his lifelong playmate. She wasn’t interested in playing, which was becoming the norm. Normally, I could convince her to join us, but this time, I held back. She had grown, and it was time to respect that change. So, I engaged my son in a game that blended soccer, basketball, and dodgeball. We invited her to participate, but she declined, choosing instead to watch from the sidelines, embodying more of a young adult than a child.
Then, something shifted. She stood up and joined in. It wasn’t a return to childhood; the young woman was still present, laughing and enjoying the game. But it gave me hope that perhaps there are still a few childhood “lasts” remaining as we step into a new world filled with young adult “firsts.”
Maybe, despite my blink, I haven’t missed everything.
People often say, “the days are long, but the years are short.” They advise cherishing the moments when your kids are little, as they’ll soon transition into teenagers and adults, living lives you’ll observe from afar. While I sometimes wanted to argue with those sentiments during the tantrums of my threenager at the grocery store, I understood their truth. In no time, those grocery store meltdowns would be a thing of the past (and I won’t miss them!). Soon, my children would prefer texting me a grocery list instead of accompanying me.
What they didn’t mention was that I’d miss it all, regardless of my efforts. I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the moment they crossed from childhood to young adulthood. Perhaps it’s too gradual, unfolding slowly enough that our hearts and eyes fail to capture it. Or perhaps it’s simply a fleeting moment, one that transcends time. Ultimately, what matters most is ensuring she knows she’s loved, at every stage.
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In summary, the transition from childhood to young adulthood can happen in the blink of an eye, often leaving parents feeling unprepared. It is essential to cherish those fleeting moments and ensure that children feel loved at every stage of their development.