Yes, I caved.  Gave into the pressures of everyone else telling me it needed to be done.   Let myself be railroaded, backed into a corner, overruled.


I was not ready.  So not ready.  She was too young.  Too small.  Too much of a baby.  To much my baby.

But as she stood, watching intently as both of her sister’s got it done, I knew she may want to do it too.  She kept pointing like she understood.  My husband begged, and by begged I mean, made so many comments about it that I had no choice.

And when Katie was done, and Megan walked over and acted like it was her turn, screeching and shrieking and pointing until I had no choice but to put her in the chair.

And watch…  with brimming tears…

As they made the first cut.

She seemed a bit baffled but was certainly taking it better than I was.  
And when they made the second cut, they transformed her from a baby to a little toddler all in one fail swoop!
And she seemed very happy about that.  I was not.  Except that I sort of was.  Because I could see her eyes. Her beautiful, round, large, brown eyes.  And I didn’t have to chase her around and sweep the hair out of her face anymore.  But I was still sad.  Because I didn’t get to run around and brush the hair out of her face anymore.  
But in the end, she looks great.  And though I am still holding a grudge that I was talked into it – by her, before she was two – which was my goal date…  she is just as beautiful as ever.
And, I suppose, will always be my baby.