When you’re five,
it’s hard to imagine really growing up,
even though every inch of you itches to be.
Every little boy wants to be a firefighter,
or a policeman,
or a superhero,
while little girls twirl around with a crown on their heads
wondering where their prince has been.

At seven,
the dreams are out on the field,
and the pat on your back from Dad means the world.
You run around the front yard
with Momma’s old broom,
riding your first bronco
as she hollers at you through the window.

At ten,
it seems as if the world will end
when friends become enemies,
and boys come into the picture.
The baseball glove collects dust on the shelf,
lonely and forgotten.
Boys start to think they’re men,
even though that’s what
they are far from.
Life seems hard, but boy,
are you in for a ride.

At thirteen,
being daddy’s little girl is not considered cool,
but that doesn’t stop you from sneaking in that
goodnight kiss.
Girls are mean,
and boys are cruel,
but Momma’s always there to comfort you.
You say you wanna grow up, but girl,
you don’t even know what that means.

Sixteen comes around,
and your car isn’t the coolest in the lot.
The future has become
an inevitable void,
but at sixteen,
there's nothing but the present.
Boys call home,
but Daddy tells them to ring another time.
It’s all part of growing up, darling,
but time is on your side.

At eighteen,
Momma and Daddy sit in the crowd
when you walk on stage in cap and gown.
They say they’re real proud, but honey,
who wouldn’t be.
It’s time to start a new chapter in your life
so they help you move out.
Tears fall on the floor
as the last few things are unloaded from the car,
but Daddy,
with sorrow in his eyes,
wipes your cheeks and says,
baby girl,
you’re still not grown up.