Decade

My baby turns ten in a few days. I'm not sure what that means. I'm having trouble processing it. You can start to see what she'll look like when she's older. I don't know about that, I think I'm just repeating something people say about kids. One of my first posts on here was instructions on how her crib should be made up. We still have all those Muppets, they're just in the younger daughter's room, she's three.
Today I was wondering what I should write concerning my daughter's decade status. I thought I might write about us having been on some mission together for the last ten years but I couldn't get any traction in my mind for that. She's running back and forth behind me. It's kind of annoying when you're trying to write. She brought home straight A's today on her report card, which usually means a trip to the Mexican restaurant down the road.
Last night I was thinking that I had gone in to check on her before I went to bed for ten years now. Straightening the blankets, pulling the one-too-many pillow out from under her head. Sometimes she likes to sleep in the floor. A cute quirk when she was thirty pounds, now I just leave her there most of the time.
She hides the 3DS from me when I check to make sure she's asleep. Closing the screen and ducking the power indicator light under the covers. This would work if she didn't shove herself under the covers as well. I know how you sleep, child, and that's not it. Go to bed or I take the 3DS.
She has dreams that she's walking on a dirt road and someone's talking to her but she can't turn her head. She has dreams that someone pushed her out of a window.
She doesn't like spaghetti. She doesn't like vegetables. She requests my macaroni and cheese for every family dinner event; a recipe I got from a Nintendo DS game. She likes Fanta in any flavor (except the blue, sometimes). She does not like cheese on her burgers.
When I'm in a tight spot in a video game I need her to sit beside me as my good luck charm. It's the only way I beat DOOM.
We make fun of other kids, because they're stupid. We say things like "They should go to hell" and "I just want to punch them in the face."
Her mother and I are trying to raise a good person. I'm a little too easy on her, I know. She can be lazy and it drives me crazy. When she's forced to clean her room she tells me she needs a break after making her bed. Also, she watches this really stupid show on Netflix called Some Assembly Required. I told her when she turned ten she could watch The Dark Knight with me. I really want to watch Predator with her, but I hesitate when I think of the people skinned-alive.
We ride bikes together. Her mother had to teach her how to ride because I was getting so frustrated and impatient. I would just yell. But she's got it now. I'm trying to show her how to stand up and get more power for hills but she's not really having it. She needs a bigger bike now.
We play punch bug in the car. It's annoying for the rest of the family.
She protests every shower, yet when she's in there you'd think she was auditioning for Water World. I didn't come up with that. "Are you auditioning for Water World?" was scribbled on my water bill last month. Good one, water company.
She keeps about forty different journals. She'll just write in them randomly. I don't relish the historian who has to put all that together.
At work I have a little note that she wrote me that says "Thank you for supporting me! I will support you too!"
She likes NERF guns. I put some hooks in her closet so she can put her guns on it like a little mini arsenal.
She'll be ten. She's kind've crazy. Everything's a debate.
Last night I went into her room and she was wearing a hairnet and disposable gloves and a dust mask performing surgery on a succession of stuffed animals like something out of the Civil War.
She leaves her bands form her braces on the table and it makes her parents insane.
I hope she loves her world. Her ten year old world.