Reagan's going to be ten in just a couple of months. It doesn't seem possible. She's so much little girl and so much sophisticated teenager wannabe.

She had a bad dream last night. It was horrific, and all I can do is hug her and try to help her work through her feelings. It's fairly obvious what triggered it, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with her emotions and heartbreak. She has recently learned that the world is often a cruel place, and that we are often betrayed by those we love and trust the most. I had so hoped to shield her from these lessons for a few more years.

The worst thing for me when Reagan has a bad dream is that she suffers with it until morning. I always crawled in bed with my mom when the monsters under the bed came calling. She doesn't want to disturb me. I am anguished over what I might have said or done to cause this. Despite my reassurances, she waits until morning to tell me about her nightmares. She is a contradiction, so needing of attention and approval, and so independent at the same time.

The girl can't wait to get back to school. My little social butterfly, she lives with a family of hermits. We are as puzzling to her as she is to us. She will be entering fourth grade, and she can't wait to get back to her friends. It's too hard to stay in touch during the summer. She has friends she hangs out with at Grandma's house, and a little girl in the neighborhood with whom she plays, but she craves constant interaction with her peers. I don't get it, but I'm often jealous of the ease with which she makes friends. She's amazing.