Sometimes I sit with my little girl and see the old soul in her giving me a glimpse of Emagene in 10-12 years. Tonight, for instance, as she sat in one my tanks fashionably tied back with hair elastics, hurriedly eating tomato soup and kale chips after a day of being outside (chalking, chicken chasing, playground experimenting and hot tubbing) it was easy to see her as a young teen just in from practice or work, starving but needing to get to something else soon. In this case it was mop the kitchen and dining room. The future will probably hold more boyfriends and homework and less voluntary housework. And I'm okay with that because on those nights I'll remember tonight and her thoughtfully whipping each slop off the table and completely ignoring her soaking shirt only to pass out in my arms a half hour later.