That is what we call Emma. She really is a grown up walking around in a little, tiny body (and listening to Fireflies). I can't count the number of times when I have heard her addressing her younger siblings in exactly the same manner that I would, using the same phrases and inflection. Sometimes it makes me feel like I'm watching a playback of myself.
When she had her party I was a little apprehensive about having so many tween girls running all over the house causing giggly mayhem. Could I still be a cool mom while hovering over them to ensure they know and obey all the house rules? (keep your food at the table, wash up when you're done eating, we don't climb over the back of that couch, light sabers don't leave the bonus room, just stay out of the office altogether.) I decided in advance that the answer to that question was "nope", so I mentally prepared myself to just let it all go and enjoy the festivities.
I needn't have worried, for two reasons and I'll tell them to you. #1: there really wasn't any mayhem. The girls were giggle-heads to be sure, but they came for a party, right? #2: I forgot that Mom Jr. was working the beat. When only the first few guests had arrived Emma gave them a quick tour of the house. They dashed upstairs and a moment later I heard her calmly and cool-as-ever explain, "Hey guys, only two people are allowed on the top bunk at a time, okay?"