My daughter can read: the end of my life as I know it.

It's over. My kid can now read.  Okay, not Tolstoy or even Nancy Drew but "I just saw your profile and you seem really nice" or, "I need to up my meds", yeah, that, THAT she's all over.

Now you'd think I'd be thrilled my little baby can read and if it were to help me to somehow make my life as a mother easier, I would say, "Yay, great" but my emails? I'm starting to think I should have let her repeat another year of pre-school.  I wear my heart on my sleeve and the filter on my mouth got lost somewhere in the birth canal, so the way I've dealt with it since my child was born, was to write and spell everything.

Now, I knew this day was coming and I'm not fully unprepared as I'd decided many months ago to learn Spanish, only that alternative doesn't seem to be working too well as no one in my circle of friends understands anything that falls in between when I say "hola" and "Adios".

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