She wants to grow up…too soon,

My girl stood in front of the mirror, looked at herself, and asked:
“Mama, do you think I look like a 6-year-old?”
It was about the third time in about as many days. She wants to look older than her 5.5 years.
I tell her she looks 5, just exactly what she’s supposed to look like.
“People tell me I look 6,” she says, hand on hip, still looking at herself.
I do not look at myself in the same mirror. If I look I will see the creases in my forehead. I don’t feel like seeing them.
“You know, Maria, I love being exactly the same age I am: 42. Why would I want to look 43? I don’t want to speed up time,” I tell her.
“But, when you’re a grown-up, you can do whatever you want and I don’t want you to boss me anymore,” she says.
Ay, nena, I think. If you only knew.
I don’t tell her that even as an adult, you can’t do whatever you want. I don’t tell her that one day, very soon, actually, her own forehead will crease. I don’t tell her that I am her Latin mami and I will probably boss her until she’s like 98.5. I don’t tell her that wishing time away is futile and wasteful. I remind myself to talk to her more often about savoring each moment — and ignoring the creases.
“Do you mean that you don’t like it when I ask you to brush your hair, or your teeth, or make your bed? Is that what this is about?” I ask.
“I don’t always want to make my bed,” she says firmly.
“Well then, I guess I will keep bossing you about it,” I say.
“Mama, how much longer until my birthday?” she asks.