It's Impossible to Know

(Just to start this blog entry with an aside (because I'm good like that), every time I write or think, "It's impossible," I think of Steve Martin in his Wild and Crazy Days when he used to sing, "It's imPOSSible, to put a Cadillac up your nose. It's just imPOSSible...") (Oh, like you don't.) (Well, okay, maybe you really DON'T in this instance.)

So, y'all might have noticed that I tread very lightly in featuring my older daughter Ana on the blog. My YOUNGER daughter is clearly primed to be adored by millions and will bask in the glory. But my OLDER daughter is more reserved. More private. More likely to feel embarrassed.

So, imagine my surprise when, after I took pictures of her yesterday morning, she wanted to see them on the blog. "You always write about Jane and not about me," she said.

I was astonished, frankly. "But I thought you didn't LIKE to be on the blog."

"Well, in this case, it's okay."

There you have it. The capriciousness of a Tween summed up in two sentences.


And here she is summed up in two pictures from the SAME DAY:


Sleeping with her Thomas kitty, where she still looks like a little girl.

And attending the Sweethearts' Dance with her dad at her school, where she clearly is almost 18 and about to leave home and break my heart.