Dear Little Girl,

Sometimes I’m going to go into Mom mode,
and if you tell me you’re suffocating
I’m going to freak out and try to find you air.

Sometimes I’m going to worry excessively,
and if you tell me you’re caged
I’m going to cut myself trying to pry you out.

You must stop me, little girl
Because at some point I need to learn that I cannot always be the answer
And that you will go your way when it is your time, not mine.

(By the way,
I’m writing this to Erica
Which is proof that big girls go through little girl things too.)

Love,

-s.