Helping clean her room recently, I noticed some old ink writing/scribbling on my daughter's nightstand.
When I gaze upon her, sometimes it makes me feel like the world has gone mad because this is my baby girl!
I do celebrate my children growing up -- birthdays are always a big deal in our home, and I realize that growing up is suppose to happen. But that doesn't mean I like it.
When my daughter, nearly as tall as I am, can slip on my shoes and borrow my clothes without them falling off, it completely melts me. She's got the movements of a girl but the growing body of a young woman.
So, in regards to that ink scribbled on the furniture, I think I will always leave it there as a sweet reminder.