Missing: One Cute Squeezy Baby

My new baby

Susie turned 11 today. My BABY turned 11. She opened presents (2 stuffed puppies, one hair straightener, a scarf, a tote bag, and a bunch of candy). We went bowling with some friends, and we took her out to dinner. On the way out of the restaurant, Susie found a $20 bill in the parking lot. Because she leads a charmed life, that girl does.

Susie helped Anna make her cake. They added in sugared strawberries, powdered strawberry jello, and homemade strawberry jam. They covered it with cream cheese/strawberry/sugar frosting. I can't even LOOK at it without needing insulin.

After cake, we watched "Raiders of the Lost Ark." You see, in our family, you have to wait until you are 11 to watch that movie. Not quite as good as receiving a Hogwarts letter, I know, but it will have to do. [Fun fact: the actor who plays the African pirate ship captain also plays Kingsley Shacklebolt in the Harry Potter movies.]

So I think we can all agree it was a pretty good day, so far as 11th birthdays go. Nevertheless, I've been feeling gobsmacked all day. Only 11 years? That's all it took for Susie to go from a fat, round dumpling of a baby to someone who is taller than I am, someone who can walk and talk and straighten her own hair?

Time flies. Kids grow fast. Insert your own platitude here.

You know, all I've managed to do over the past 11 years is gain 10 pounds and a bunch of wrinkles. And get a LOT dumber. Seriously, do the kids suck brain cells from us as they grow? Is that how it works? And where has my cute squeezable baby gone? Can anyone tell me that?

Excuse me while I go hug her stuffed puppy again - it's all I've got.