chocolate is always the answer.

Last summer while visiting in Utah, John and I ran into an old friend from high school. She had her three girls with her, and they were shopping for bras. Namely for her middle girl. Who just happened to be Madison's age.

Yes. Madison's age.

John and I were stunned. Mostly because we aren't ready to deal with our own daughter's maturity. Bras and make-up and boys and that-time-of-the-month are all horrifying concepts for us.

Naturally I try to disguise my dread with a poor attempt at humor. Since that day, I don't think that Madison and I have been shopping alone together without me pointing out training bras and asking her if she'd like to pick out a couple.

"Mom!!!! Ew!!!"

I utter a quick, silent prayer of thanks that she is still my little girl.

(I also love that when she is watching TV or a movie and there are people kissing, she covers her eyes, and cries "Ew, gross! Tell me when it's over!")

Anyways, a week or so ago she got a big package in the mail. Every so often Madison gets a large box of clothes that her cousin has outgrown. It's a treasure trove of barely used, if not never worn clothes. Some still with tags hanging off.

So there we are, Madison, me, John, Zach, and Madison's BFF Jillian excitedly digging through the cheer leading outfits, jeans, shirts, dresses, etc, and I spot something small and white, and slightly padded. I quickly snatch it and fling it at her. "Woo-hoo! Your first bra!"

"Awww, mo-om!"

Zach quickly pipes up, "Well, if you don't want to wear it, you can always fill the cups with chocolate and stick it in the freezer."

Genius.