A new 'Hello Kitty' book bag sits on the back of a chair in my dining room. The bag isn't small and cute or meant to hold a toy or teddy bear for show. It is a standard sized bag and meant to hold folders and art work and letters and words that Clare is learning to read in school. The thing swallows her, but it fits her too. She put it on and I smiled and cheered and we all hugged. It was perfect. However, a knife pierced my stomach the moment I realized that piece of vinyl and mesh fit her little body. Our ladybug isn't a baby anymore. She's a little girl with the dream of a life that is all her own. Writing that makes me kind of weepy. I don't want to stop her, you know? Maybe I just wish I had had more time with her before the book bag fit...