Today, my daughter Emily and I are tackling her room together. Approaching 11, she’s declared that she’s outgrown her childhood space. The once cheerful cotton candy pink walls now seem overly bright to her. The stuffed unicorn that used to be her favorite is no longer welcome on her bed, and those princess-themed prints? Definitely for little kids. We’ve agreed to revamp her room for her upcoming birthday, but first, we need to do a thorough clean-out of everything: closets, drawers, you name it. As Taylor Swift fills the air, we dive in.
Sitting on her fluffy carpet, I watch as she stands in a shaft of sunlight, rummaging through a box of old toys. She perfectly embodies the tween stage—caught between childhood and adolescence. She still believes in Santa but is also aware of teenage drama. She sleeps with a nightlight on while confidently using the oven to bake. She sits up front in the car but still likes to be tucked in at night.
Her figure has transformed from a pudgy child into a graceful, tall girl. She no longer wears frilly skirts or shiny baubles; instead, she opts for simple jeans and a soft blue tee. Her brown hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her bright green eyes shine, now framed by a more mature face.
There are items she easily parts with, as well as things I find hard to let go of. We toss aside old posters from her art classes and some long-forgotten drawings. I notice the golden curtain rods and decide they must go too.
As I sift through the items, I start a separate keep pile for myself. I hold up a tiny dress—pink silk adorned with sparkling beads along the hem. It was a gift from my parents when she was just seven, a miniature flapper outfit that feels like it belonged to another lifetime. “What do you think of this one?” I ask her.
“It doesn’t fit me anymore, Mom,” she replies with a hint of finality.
“I know,” I respond, holding it close for a moment.
Emily suggests tossing a purple tulle butterfly that used to hang from her ceiling, but I secretly add it to my keep pile instead.
We gather a stack of Rainbow Fairies books to donate to a neighbor. I won’t miss those, but the beloved Ramona series? I can’t bear to part with them.
Then I find a lopsided clay heart box she crafted when she was younger. It’s covered in colorful gems and lined with felt, its vibrant red paint almost too bright. “Oh, Mommy,” she says, taking it from me. “I have to keep this,” she says as she lovingly brushes her fingers over its bumpy surface.
“I understand completely,” I reply with a smile.
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In summary, cleaning out my tween’s room became a journey of letting go and cherishing memories. While it’s bittersweet to part with certain items, it also marks a new chapter in her life as she transitions from childhood to the exciting realm of adolescence.