If I was ten years old, I would be my daughter’s best friend. She is the coolest person I know.
We would paint amazing pictures together. We would laugh at silly jokes we would make up. We would sit under the climbing gym at recess and talk about our own world that is exactly as we want it to be. We would invent games and give each other nicknames. She would be LillyLouLouLynzie and I would be AnnieAnnieAbsofab. We would race around the play ground and hug one another with joy every time we see each other. We would share Webkinz and beg to have sleepovers where we would inhale our spaghetti in three seconds flat just so we could get back to playing together because that is all we want to do. We would like the same music and the same movies and we would giggle about the same secrets. We would sculpt with Sculpey clay and color crazy pictures with crayons. We would eat Bit-O-Honeys and giggle because our teeth get stuck together. We would explore museums, finding the joy in the stuff that isn’t part of the museum, but rather the behind the scenes stuff that isn’t really that cool, but somehow we think it is. We would snicker behind our hands and stare wide-eyed at all the adults who are completely clueless, stifling the desire to roll our eyes at their obvious stupidity. We would have concerts where our favorite stuffed animals are the performers and even, sometimes still, we would play dress ups. We would roller blade in the park, sometimes pausing to swing on the swings when no one else was watching. We would like the boys, but not too much and only tell each other who is the cutest boy of all. We would understand each other. We would be the fiercest of best friends, vowing to be BFF and look forward to the next time we get to be together again, especially if it is to be just the very next moment.
