3,4,5,6,7,8 have all been difficult ages for my daughter.  For every level, quiet moment she has, there will be at least five uneven, emotional outbursts.  But lately I notice something happening…

Blame it on turning nine in a couple weeks, or the affects of third grade, my daughter is becoming rational and in control.  Call it whatever you want to call it, I call it a miracle.  For years Sari’s reaction to anything not of her preference is an outburst.  Maybe crying, maybe yelling.  Usually stomping, body tightening, and sometimes throwing things.  Always tears.  Not weepy tears either, bawling baby tears.  I have been thinking it is never going to stop.

Now here is the thing though, as bad as she is, she’s twice as sweet.  She is thoughtful and caring and full of ideas and wonder for the world.  She dotes on me constantly making sure I have what I need, that my cough isn’t something serious, and makes me gorgeous, elaborate (un-edible–ssshhhhh) snacks.  When I call her my precious angel I mean it! She just happens to also have an evil devil alter ego.

So when Hubs, Bubs, and I were at dinner Saturday night and I saw Taco Salad’s number ringing in on my phone, I just knew something had happened.  Sari was having a sleepover there and before I answered I was quickly trying to convince myself that whatever news I was about to receive was no going to require me to abandon our dinner and drive an hour to Saginaw to get her.  Shame on me.

My Sis In Law, Taco Salad, said, “Dude what have you done with your daughter?”  (Damnit.  Started feeling around for the car keys in my purse).  But when I asked why, she told me how SUPER she had been.  Even cleaned up the whole play area and then some without being prompted.  (Sari doesn’t pick up ANYthing without some type of protest).  Just as an added bonus I was told that she was discussing the election and sharing her plans and reasons for running for office with the adults.

I was laughing and crying so that it was hard to tell what was going on with me.   I had noticed over the last month and a half that something was changing with here.  She walks a little differently, talks about different kinds of things, takes more pride in things, and tolerates direction better.  I guess it’s good.

Only here’s the problem.  She used to have this really silly innocent little girl grin.  Over night it was gone a couple weeks ago, I swear to God.  She went to bed a baby and woke up holding her upper lip differently and smiling differently.  I thought she had a sore mouth or something.  “What’s wrong with your face?” I squawked at her.  But it’s JUST her face.  Evolving.  Growing Up. Less giggling.  More worrying about all the new houses being built and trees being chopped down when there are already so many empty houses that need owners.  Did I mention that she doesn’t try and sneak in bed with me anymore?  Yessir.  She prefers her own bed now.

Sigh.

Maybe I’m deciding that 9′s not all it’s cracked up to be, after all.