Growin like a weed.

I'm not sure when it exactly happened...that my little chubby baby...with the piercing brown eyes and coy personality...turned into a little girl. I'm guessing overnight. My brain knows we have mastered most of the "big girl" prerequisites (the potty, getting dressed, speaking in complete sentences) but it still doesn't seem possible. Doesn't she know she is supposed to still fit in my arms, still need me in the night, still babble with delight instead of ramble in paragraph form?
And while it is killing me to watch her grow....I know it is hard work for her too. She hasn't given up her thumb yet. Or the hair twirling which always accompanies it. I guess in her own little way...she is holding on too.
A few months ago, A brought home a bean neatly planted in a Dixie cup. I actually rolled my eyes. We were leaving for Spring Break and I was annoyed by the thought of having to explain to A why the tiny plant hadn't survived without our constant watering. But to our surprise...the bean sprouted and grew furiously while we were gone. It sits by our kitchen sink and has grown at least 2 feet up the blinds on the window. This week it sprouted beans. A wants to eat them for dinner and I can't think of a reason not to saute them right up for her.

This morning I noticed that one of the stalks has turned yellow and seems to be withering...as if the large bean pod that it has produced has sucked its will to live dry. And I got to thinking about how much work it is to grow.

Maybe I am just feeling sentimental (or hormonal) but today I will be a bit more sympathetic. Growing up (and growing out!) is an awfully hard job. Some days it just seems to suck the life right out of you.