Thirteen.

Today my baby is thirteen.

All of the Are you ready to have a teenager comments are really unnecessary because, at least for the moment, she's really the same awesome kid she was yesterday when she wasn't a teenager.

And no, for the record, I am not actually ready. Is anyone?

It's not even The Teenage Years we (Ron and I, parents everywhere, you pick) aren't ready for. It's the speed at which we have reached this point, and at which we will surely reach all subsequent points.

Thirteen is a milestone birthday, but unlike on, say, the fifth birthday, when you are amazed that your newborn has turned into a fully functioning child person who can mildly take care of herself, this is more the shock of subtraction. She has filled us up everyday these past thirteen years, but I know that now 18-13 = 5. And that's not much.

It's not enough.

She is a lot, this girl. If you know her at all, you know that she is kind, smart, funny, extremely crafty, and loves all things nature. She is the best girl I know.

Today we will squeeze and love our amazing girl on this big birthday.

We are the luckiest.