Julia is not technically a young adult, of course. Young adult literature, for example, targets adolescents aged roughly 12 to 18, while the medical definition of young adult starts at 18. Whatever the definition, we’re definitely not there yet. But “young adult” is nonetheless how my precocious freshly-11-year-old consistently seems to me.
Are you saying I’m old?
Julia has always clocked ahead of the curve developmentally, especially where her reasoning and verbal skills are concerned, so there’s nothing new in her seeming older than she is. I remember the day care staff commenting on how they sometimes have to remind themselves that she’s still a small child because she talks with the fluency of a much older one. But still, somehow something’s different now, like she’s unlocked some new level of maturity.
She’s highly self-aware, and she can talk about her feelings and reactions in a clear and careful manner. She’s also very observant and seems to have an almost analytical grasp of the social dynamics at play between her friends and peers. She can be level-headed and patient when she has a mind to. She’s fiercely independent, mostly runs her days on her own (but still somehow fails to wake up to her own morning alarms), and continues to have zero use for her highly educated and really smart (well, at least the one) parents for school stuff. And she regularly delivers nice burns when I say or do the inevitable dumb thing. (If it helps develop her self-confidence, and if it’s earned, I’m happy to take the hit to my patriarchal dignity.)
For the record, I’m not saying that my daughter is a child prodigy. Every child follows their own developmental script, where some things bloom early and others come late, relative to their peers, but the differences eventually mostly level out. My daughter just happens to have developed a few things early. (But of course I’m also saying that my daughter is a wunderkind, because suck it, other parents!)
Alas, when she grows bored or tired, or fails to meet her own exacting criteria in some task, or just forgets to eat, or her parents forget to feed her in time, the temper that comes boiling over seems very age-appropriate to me. But I’m told that with girls this gets all sorted out quickly during early puberty. Which should be right around the corner. Can’t wait!
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2015 / 2016 / 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2020 / 2021 / 2022 / 2023 / 2024 / 2025
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Two generations of gold.
Rollercoastering with Dad. Still the best ride at Linnanmäki.
“Year of the Horse” could’ve easily been this year’s title, too.
When you can’t ride a real horse, you ride a hobby horse. Our stable now has like twenty of them.
Practicing for the races. Not pictured: The hobby horse you’re supposed to race with.
Life outdoors. Like our ancient hunter-gatherer ancestors did it. In a cutting-edge Hilleberg Nammatj GT all-season tent, on a grandparent’s lawn, with ready access to everything that’s good about indoors life. (Many thanks to The Paz for yet another tent loan.)
Literally half of the photos I took of my daughter over the past 12 months feature the fist. Again. I suspect there’s a message in there for me.
Full cookie jar with a note: “Off-limits to Dad. Don’t touch!”
Actions and consequences.
She’s still around. And still kinda surprised and confused about it.
First own computer. Kids these days…
(No caption needed. But feel free to insert your own positive metaphor.)
dreameling's 
Of course the young dreamelingling is a prodigy, that is because they have excellent parents who are doing a bang-up job. You have every right to brag!
Thanks for another year and another grand milestone in this amazing little life. I am confident the teen years will be trouble-free (in fact I am having a hard time even imagining your kid’s temper, all I can see in my mind’s eye is you laughing and going “God – damnit!” in moments of exasperation), but whatever surprises come your way, you’ll handle them.
And it’s good to get the “I’m just letting them get shots in at me for the sake of their social and linguistic development” excuses laid down now. That way, when they really start to just own you constantly, you’ll be able to handle it. I’ve reached the point where I laugh at my kids’ brutality, and they feel bad and apologise.
Sometimes. Citation needed.
Cheers! If she takes after her mother, we should be good. If she takes after me, she’ll be a know-it-all smartass for a while, but still survivable. Or she’ll be her own beautiful thing that’s probably going to occasionally drive her parents crazy (as much as we drive her). I’m honestly kinda looking forward to it.
Your kids clearly have a conscience, so sounds like a net positive to me! And judging by your last year’s birthday and a dad-day cards, they also have an effin brilliant sense of humor. Like, holy crap, dude.
I do sometimes wonder, though, if it would be better, both for parent and child, to be a more authoritarian parent figure. But then I just go meh.
I can assure you, the only result of being an authoritarian parent is dying alone and unmourned. Of course there’s no way to raise a human that isn’t going to result in a messed-up ape, but I have a positive feeling about the next generation. They seem to have a pretty good idea about how to treat people and what is important. The less said about the subset who are turning into alt-right misogynists and love Mister Beast the better, but oh well. If we as a species had wanted nice things, we shouldn’t have traded arm-reach for brain-complexity.
I’m sure you’re right, and I stand proudly by my meh. I feel good about the next generation, too, based on what little I’ve seen so far. It’s the older generations I worry about, but let’s just table that discussion to, you know, a table at Teerenpeli or something.