The thing I’ve been dreading and starting to think might not happen after all. Maggie’s pulling away from me. She doesn’t want me to touch her beautiful hair, to kiss her sweet cheek, to grab her for a hug, to hold her close. It was bound to happen–I remember pulling away from my mom–but I thought maybe my Maggie-bear would remain my little snuggle bug. I’m having a hard time not crying today. I know it’s all part of growing up, all part of “life’s rich pageant,” as my Dad would say. I still don’t have to like it. I can still mourn the passing of a my little girl’s childhood and the end of my role as “Mommy.” God, who knew being a parent could wrench your guts like this?