When my 13-year-old granddaughter Lily came to stay with us for the summer, I was excited to spend quality time with her. She’d always been such a sweet kid, and I looked forward to her energy filling the house.

While she ran around the house, I offered to unpack her suitcase. What I found stopped me in my tracks—crop tops, tiny shorts, makeup, and platform shoes. Was this really the same little girl I’d known? My mind raced with worry. I called my daughter, Emily, expecting her to be equally concerned. Instead, she brushed it off, explaining that this was normal for girls Lily’s age.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Lily was growing up too fast, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. Over the next few days, I watched her closely, noticing that despite the new clothes, she was still the same Lily—laughing at her grandfather’s jokes, helping me in the garden.

One evening, I sat down with her to talk. I gently mentioned my surprise at her new style. She admitted that she just wanted to fit in with her friends, but assured me that she was still herself. We ended up sharing stories, laughing about my own youthful fashion choices, like the go-go boots I’d once worn despite my mother’s disapproval.

As the summer went on, I realized something important: the makeup and clothes were just part of Lily figuring out who she was. At her core, she was still the kind, curious girl I’d always known. Maybe, I needed to trust her—and myself—a little more.