My little teenager

Every morning when I drop Adeleigh off at daycare, I find myself lingering around, squeezing in as many hugs and kisses until the last possible minute before the work day. The routine usually consists of her walking back and forth between me and the toys about three times before I'm satisfied enough to finally peel myself away and leave.
She's been reaching all kinds of milestones recently, growing up faster than I'm prepared for. Crawling is too 1990's for her, she's now a speed walker. She speaks sentences, saying "Tee-too, Momma" (Thank you) or "I yuh-oo" (I love you) or "bi-do-rar-na-dee" (?????)
Last week at daycare, we reached a new milestone together. I was doing my usual linger, talking to our daycare lady, while Adeleigh was playing on the other side of the room with the toys. In behind me walked Adeleigh's little friend who's two months younger than she is. All the adults in the room froze as my daughter let out the loudest, shrillest, excited scream and we stood there and watched as her little legs hurried her cute little body across the room to the front door. I saw this as my opportunity to squeeze in my last morning hug and bent down with arms open wide as my smiley girl came running towards me. Only, she wasn't running towards me. She was aiming for her friend. And Momma was so in the way. So, Adeleigh put her chubby little hand up, placed it against the center of my face and pushed me out of the way. Now the adults were standing there in horror, watching, wondering what was going to happen next. Wondering if I was going to burst into tears. I didn't. But, Adeleigh didn't stop there. She proceeded to put her hand on the half-open door where I was standing, and tried to push it shut. I took the hint and stepped outside, pulling the door shut all the way. I watched through the door window as she, now that Mom was gone, could finally hang out with her friend and go flirt with boys.
While many other babies Adeleigh's age are experiencing separation-anxiety, clutching on tight to their mothers, my baby has decided to skip that fun kid phase and become a fourteen-year-old. Maybe she's ready for me to drop her off two blocks away from daycare, so she can walk herself and not look totally uncool kissing Mom goodbye? I am definitely not prepared for that. Maybe I should commend her sense of independence. Or maybe, when she's fourteen, I'll remember that one day at daycare. And when I drop her off two blocks away from high-school, I'll speed ahead and meet her at the entrance when she's with all her friends, curlers in my hair and say, "Honey, you forgot your lunch and your paci. And don't forget, after school we have fingerpainting class. I yuh-oo. Bi-do-rar-na-dee!"