There is an inevitability in watching your kids grow up and it's bittersweet.
For years, the most-used space in our house was the dedicated playroom. Our daughters would spend hours on end within those four walls playing with their dolls and board games; drawing and colouring or sometimes creating their own games with ever-changing rules and a purpose that wasn't always obvious.
From other parts of the house, I'd hear sounds of laughter, or role-playing, of talking, singing and arguing.
When I would check in on them, I would sometimes be confronted with the results of their imagination and creativity in the form of toys, craft supplies and dress-ups piled high on the floor.
While part of me felt a wave of mess-induced frustration whenever this occurred, the overwhelming emotion I often felt was joy.
Is this the end of an era?
Recently, my husband decided to permanently relocate his work office to our home, which meant bringing home a truckload of equipment. He told me of his intention to "take over" their playroom as a means to store it all.
My initial reaction when he told me his plans was shock.
"There's no way the girls will be on board with this!" I told him, adamant that our daughters would not only be appalled by this idea but staunchly defend their kingdom of fun.
"But they barely even set foot in it anymore," he replied.
And just as I was about to rebuff this, I paused. He was right.
While I had noticed that recently the room hadn't been in demand as it once was, it wasn't until that moment that I truly realised to what extent.
Still, possibly in an attempt to deny this reality, I suggested we have a conversation about it with our kids to see what they think.
But when we did, instead of a fight to keep the room that had been their realm of fun, they shrugged indifferently, saying "That's OK, we don't use it any more anyway."
These words was more than a superficial indifference, it was symbolic of something greater: It was the end of their era of play, that rite of passage that is so entwined with childhood.
It signified that my daughters were no longer in this stage and that somehow, right beneath my nose, they had turned into tweens.
Enter the tween years
After this realisation, I took time to really reflect and suddenly became aware of quickly this development, from one stage of childhood to another, had occurred.
Not only had they stopped "playing" but now their time is spent doing other activities instead. From spending more time with friends to extracurricular activities of their own choosing and the type of music they listen to.
Even the television shows they watch have evolved from cartoons to live-action coming-of-age shows.
Birthday present requests are no longer toys but skincare, clothes (of a very specific style) and gift cards.
Topics of conversation have moved from that innocent excitement of what they played at lunchtime to friendship squabbles and Taylor Swift.
Instead of frequent requests for advice, they question decisions I have made and let me know their thoughts on just about everything, whether it's related to them or not.
There is a need to stamp their own personality on their appearance — from the way they style their hair to their choice of earrings to the way they decorate their bedrooms.
When I think about all the little ways my daughters have changed, of course, I feel happy, proud and, to be honest, relieved that they are thriving and are in the position where they can grow, surrounded by love and support.
But as their mum, the person who has literally felt their first movements, heard their first words, and watched them take their first steps, realising that they are growing up and doing it incredibly fast ... well, that's challenging too.
Just like the playroom, I'll need some time to adjust to it.
Shona Hendley is an ex-secondary-school teacher from regional Victoria. She lives with her four fish, three goats, two cats and one chicken, as well as her two human children and husband.
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