Over the weekend, my daughter played five games of soccer, then came home and slept on the floor of a fort she made out of blankets draped across the furniture in her bedroom.
Ten may just be the best age a girl can be.
The options and confidence are limitless in this year, or hopefully two or three, before everything changes. Before hormones invade. Before best friends part for different middle schools. Before the confidence of being one of the big kids on campus is replaced by the anxiety and insecurity of everything being new, inside and out.
Find out what's happening in Encino-Tarzanawith free, real-time updates from Patch.
At 10, a girl can spend the night in a sleeping bag on a hardwood floor, then bound up in the morning like the Energizer Bunny, dress in 10 minutes flat—including shin guards—and hit the field for another couple of soccer games.
At 10, my daughter’s friends are all shapes and sizes, not that they notice. Two want to be veterinarians, one a writer and another a fashion designer. Who knows what they’ll actually end up doing. For now, they unabashedly sing Katey Perry songs, oblivious to the meaning of lyrics like “Let’s go all the way tonight.” They like yoga pants from Abercrombie Kids, but not the shirtless male model with the pout on the store’s wall and shopping bags.
Find out what's happening in Encino-Tarzanawith free, real-time updates from Patch.
Instead, they gush about their “little buddies” in first grade and root for Cass, the quirky heroine of The Secret Series books. They squabble about silly stuff like where to sit at lunch or who promised who to be lab partners in science, but the disagreements never last.
This weekend, I also witnessed with amazement the tremendous strength, skill and confidence so many girls possess. My daughter participated for the first time in Balboa Park’s annual AYSO Turkey Tournament. She was randomly teamed with nine other girls to represent the Van Nuys-Sherman Oaks Park, every one of them eager, focused and full of determination and joy. That, some great coaching, and a little luck propelled them to turkey triumph.
That night, despite being exhausted, my daughter wanted to sleep in her fort again.
“It’s cozy,” she said, before asking, “How long can I keep it up?”
Strewn across half of her room, it is a nuisance, let alone an eyesore.
“As long as you want,” I said.
And as I watched her, clad in silk puppy pajamas, sleeping in it, my biggest hope was that her 10-year-old confidence and joy never get squashed, but only flourish.
