"I don't want to take anything to school for my birthday" I hear her say.
"Because I just don't want to" comes after further prodding.
She is a few days away from eleven.
Her long legs and growing body an incongruent match for her soul.
Growing is consuming her, it seems.
"I want to honor you on your birthday" I say.
"I want you to be celebrated" I continue.
Mediation does its work.
Agreement is reached.
And so I mix cupcakes.
Ice them carefully - adorning them to match her emerging splendour.
I will bring them in...
...It's ok to have someone else celebrate you, but not to celebrate yourself
is the message I receive.
"It may be a long road ahead" I think to myself.
I'll be bringing the cupcakes as long as I need to.