My little cousin Courtney, who is not-so-little anymore is in the process of having a slumber party to celebrate her 10th birthday. She only has two friends over, which is a totally respectable amount...
However.
I now understand why eventually my mother refused to ever let there be another slumber party again. Little girls are loud. And walls anywhere besides a top secret military bunker are not thick enough to keep out the giggles and the screams and the TV. And this is only two kids. I used to have slumber parties with up to 5 friends!!!
Sorry Mom and Dad. My bad.
I'm not so much liking this getting older thing. I was in the car today and I could not remember what being 10 was like. I had no memory of 10, no real idea of what that year held for me until Courtney's little friend came up to me and asked if I liked sea food.
Boom.
All of a sudden I remembered 10. It blends into 9 and 11 a little bit but it's all there. The uncertainty about boys (gross or cute?), body image (the training bra debacle) and what was "cool." I also remember that it was still okay to play pretend, and with barbies and occasionally just run around the backyard screaming. That's pretty much the last year of that. Once you hit 11, it stops being uncertainty and becomes self conciousness. At 11 you may want to play dress up but know that you can only do it by yourself or maybe with your best friend for fear of looking like "a baby."
The Horror.
10 is awesome. The space between 10 and 16 is bleak. 13 is okay, but really-- that six years sucks. Hard. And from what I've experenced, except for the alcohol and making out, its pretty much all down hill from there anyway.
Happy Birthday Courtney. Don't grow up too fast.
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