The day I've been anticipating for over eleven years has arrived.

My 11 year-four months-22 days-old daughter just told me that she hates me.

Of course, she was terribly disappointed to discover that I knew it all along. Or rather, that I knew the day would come when she would say that. And that it would be OK. And that I distinctly remember telling her grandmother the same thing. And that it was a normal part of growing up female.

So I proved myself to be a calm, capable mother.

So now she really has something to hate me about.