Request For Training

My daughter has one breast nodule starting to grow.  The second is on the way, I told her, not to worry.   And she hasn't been worried.  But she definitely is going through some changes.   I can see her body growing in ways that look like she's less of a little girl than she was not even that long ago.   There is time to go before she's not, "my little girl" and becomes, "my little lady" but changes are afoot, that's for sure. 

Her best friend, Keira, is several years older and has moved into further stages of puberty.   My daughter spends time with her and I suppose is getting advice from her as an older, more wise pre-teen.   It was therefore very cute when she came to me this morning and told me she wanted a bra, um, there was a name for it she said, but could she get one of those for, "my one boob?" 

I asked if she meant a training bra and she said that was what she meant.   I told her she had plenty of time before she needed to wear one, but if she wanted, we could get her one.   I told her they had all kinds of comfortable options but the main thing about the training was that it was a new piece of clothing in a place she'd never worn anything before and that was going to take some getting used to. 

I let her feel one of the athletic bras I had that was about the most minimal cotton option possible so she would know what shape she could expect.   She minimally felt it before she exclaimed, "it sounds awful." I didn't want to point out she was the one asking for a training bra.   I told her we could try one out tomorrow and see what she thought, but for now, she could just enjoy wearing no bra for another few years. 

The Big Boy Update:  I just passed on a message from my mother to my son, asking what vegetables he liked so she could have them for his visit.  I was rather proud of him when he replied, saying, "cucumbers, broccoli, zucchini, squash, yeah, just most vegetables."   My son is playing a game called, "It Takes Two" with his father while I write this.   My son is very authoritative, telling his father what to do, as though his father has no idea how to play a video game.   My son is good, but he's also good at getting himself killed.  

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter turned in her project today at school, but not unlike most children, they resent it if you ask how it went.   She had a very hard time when she got home from school because she thought she was being blamed for something no one thought she was doing.   We tried several times to explain that just because we ask questions about a thing, it doesn't mean she's being blamed.  It means we're trying to find something that's missing and wanted to know the last time she saw it.   She finally calmed down, but it took a good while.   Some days she thinks everyone is out to get her.  If she could see facial expressions and know we were being genuine, or I guess she can tell from the tone.   But it's hard for her sometimes.