It is so freakin' hard to remember that my little Annie is only 11.
We have conversations about her advanced math class and the boys in gym class and fashion and what-not. She keeps asking to read the books I'm teaching my high school students. She goes to youth group now. She washes dishes, wants to cook dinner (or at least helps), does her own laundry, and feeds the dogs (sometimes without any prompting).
She spends 5 straight hours watching Hannah Montana.
She reads Junie B. Jones and Mr. Men books.
She runs screaming through the house, yelling, "CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!" while the dogs and her brother chase her for the sheer fun of it.
After all, she's only 11.