They grow up so fast

Could I go back in time and speak to myself I would choose the Samantha of four or five years. I would pick her up from her neon red and blue swing in the green lush backyard of her grand-guardians and hold her to my bosom, crying softly, “Sweet child of my youth, my innocence, my hope, what is this blissful love for the world you so selflessly grace upon those who gaze upon you? Your round cheeks and beautiful smile so deceiving for inside you lurks the downfall of your empire. My sweet little empress what if I told your world would crash upon itself, no longer would the world’s fruit be delivered to you custom sliced and on a silver platter and that soon the disease that rages your body will cause all of this dream world to dissolve?” However the Samantha of my youth would put her small lips to my tear stained lips and smile with all the deceptiveness of a little burgeoning manipulatress and whisper, “I can’t wait to grow up.”