So, like many of you, I have a mother.  She’s 86 years old, tiny like a bird, and (in my admittedly subjective opinion) one of the Last Surviving Real Ladies. Caps intended.

And, like some of you, I have a daughter, whose name is the same (what a coincidence!).  She’s ten years old, strong and fast, and flips between girly princess mode and slightly gross mode, in that uniquely ten-year-old fashion.