Sophia was telling her Nana about what a big girl she was. I was down the hall, heading into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I overheard her say to her grandma, “After I’m 4, I will be 5!” I hear her little feet trotting down the hall.

“Daddy, after I’m 4, I will be 5!”

“Yes, Baby. You sure will.”

“And after I’m 5, I will be 6!”

“Yes, Baby.”

“And after I’m 6, I will…wait…what comes after 6?”

I turn around. “Think about it.”

“7! I’ll be 7. And after I’m 7, I will be 8! And after I’m 8, I will be 9, and after I’m 9, I will be 10!”

Really, there wasn’t anything to say, but this commercial came into my brain:

I hate/love that commercial. I’m the Dad that cries because he is actually watching that little girl playing with the seatbelt, in the front seat of the car, imagining that she’s 16 and about to drive away.  And I won’t be ready for her to be old enough to drive. Curses, Subaru!

Yes, Baby, you are a big girl.