Childhood needs a speed limit

We're standing just this side of the border between Owen's first year and his second, and (cliché! cliché!) I cannot believe how quickly we've arrived. Time with the second child absolutely moves faster than with just the one, but it is not as if the time with that first child continues to pass relatively more slowly. Every day that passes, Zoë grows more and more into this independent girl. It is at the same time charming and horrifying.

This school year, we started setting an alarm clock for Zoë in the morning. Getting two kids up, dressed, and out the door by 6:30 was proving a challenge, and the time it was taking to gently rouse her (she sleeps like a 14-year-old boy) and get her moving … well, it just wasn't working. Plus, she was a total crab. And thus, we were leaving the house later and later. So, we taught her how to use the alarm clock, set it for 6:00 AM, and gave her instructions to get up, use the bathroom, and wait for me to finish getting her dressed. Shortly after we started this routine, which had a few hiccups but was mostly successful, Zoë's alarm clock – which had been my alarm clock in college, like, 49 years ago – broke. She actually had fun picking out a new one (it changes colors!) and learning how to use it. Just a little more reinforcement for her big girl routine.

There is a point here. The past few mornings, Zoë has been getting up on her own before her alarm goes off. This morning, I heard her get up, use the bathroom, and wash up. Moments later, I catch a glimpse of her in my bathroom mirror walking to my bedside table to pick up a book. "Good morning, Zoë!" She pads into the bathroom, slippers on (having donned them herself) and cheerfully greeted me. It just struck me, the way she is taking on these personal responsibilities now, and not even asking for a reward the way she used to. Like last night, when she took a bath and got ready for bed "on her own." Certainly, I ran the bath, but she played, washed, got out, dried off, brushed her teeth, and almost got into her pajamas (they are snug) without help. Just some supervision from me. She keeps giving us these glimpses, which are becoming more like short films, of the girl she is.

So, why am I horrified? She's cute. She knows it. And she is becoming an expert negotiator. Independent, strong-willed Zoë at 3? Charming, precocious, manageable. Zoë at 13? Should I find my own therapist now?