“Mama, I don’t want a fringe anymore. I want my hair to be like yours!”

My heart sank. My mind flashed to memories of her with her signature straight fringe that has framed her adorable face and big round eyes for as long as I can remember.

I smiled, but inside, I felt a tiny ache. A change in hairstyle seemed like such a small thing—but to me, it was a quiet marker of something bigger. My little girl was starting to have her own preferences. Her own mind.

It’s beautiful, of course. It’s what we want—our children to grow into confident individuals. But if I’m being honest, there’s a part of me that’s still catching up.

Catching up to how fast time is moving.

Catching up to how quickly she’s changing.

Sometimes it feels like I blinked and suddenly, she’s no longer the adorable baby (subjective, I know—but trust me) or that clingy toddler. She’s almost 8, in primary school, and has become an A+ speller.

She’s stepping into her own light—and I’m quietly learning how to let go, one little milestone at a time.

I remember the year she graduated from kindergarten.

I was determined to make it her best school year (she had a great one!), but truthfully, I spent most of that year feeling sad—trying my best to let go of that phase of her life. I was quietly bracing myself for every “last.”

The emotions built up all year, and I’m still not sure which day broke me more: her graduation day or her last day of school.

Those days hit me hard—this is really happening. She’s growing up. And no matter how tightly I hold on, I can’t slow it down.

It’s such a strange place to be: bursting with pride while also mourning the versions of her that no longer exist.

The toddler who once declared, “I yuv you, Mama.”

The preschooler who only wanted to be exactly like me.

She used to mispronounce words—yeyyow instead of yellow, nana for banana, or calling hand sanitizer “hanitizer.” (She was a pandemic preschooler.)

Hanitizer became part of our daily vocabulary, and my heart broke a little when she started pronouncing it correctly.

I still say hanitizer now. I think I always will.

Those little quirks that made us laugh and melted my heart in equal measure… they’ve quietly disappeared over time. There are still a few mispronounced words as her vocabulary expands, but overall? She’s so articulate. Her speech is clearer, more grown-up.

Beautiful, yes. But also—bittersweet.

She’s not a baby anymore. And I’m both proud and slightly heartbroken about it.

The little girl who once thought I knew everything.

That version of me—The Fixer, The Hero, The Constant—is evolving too. These days, my role looks more like quiet guidance than front-and-centre spotlight. And that’s okay. That’s growth—for both of us.

But let’s not pretend it’s easy.

Nobody really prepares you for this in-between stage. When your child still needs you, but not in the way they used to. When you’re parenting someone who’s growing more complex, more independent, more themselves by the day.

The fringe was just the beginning. There will be more requests, more changes, more signs that she’s growing up—and I’ll keep catching up.

But for now, I’ll savour the little things that still remain.

The bedtime hugs.

The random hand-holding.

The moments she still says, “Mama, look at this!” like it’s the most important thing in the world.

Because to me, it still is.

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We’re Pearlyn and Sha — two digital strategists (and moms) who’ve been in this game for over a decade. We help brands connect with modern moms in ways that are strategic and human.

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