When I first met Clownfish, she was a 5 year old, who I could convince of anything. (Fun fact: I had a goatee for a while, so I convinced her that I was raised by wolves. One night, I started howling at the moon. She ran away). She was innocent, and cute. She would listen to my stories, and … well she was a kid. She’s not that anymore though. She’s learning to drive (more on that in another post) and she’s getting college letters. My little girl is about to grow up.