Most afternoons, the phone rings. Ms. X. swore up and down she’d keep me posted about Sophie’s trials and tribulations this year, and as far as I can tell, she’s kept the promise.
The news varies. Often it involves an indiscretion or safety breach. For example, on Monday, Sophie announced to some other kids (but not the teacher!) that she was going to the bathroom, and took off for the nurse’s office without a “buddy”.
Not good. Sophie has solemnly promised all of us she won’t do that again, and Ms. X. has noticed that she does seem to try things only once, but not again — like yesterday, when she unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper in the bathroom. (The nurse was not pleased; I don’t blame her.)
I’m hopeful. We’ll see if she leaves the TP alone from now on.
One piece of news in the past few days made my heart soar, and I thought sharing it would be a good way to end the week.
Ms. X called on Tuesday afternoon. “So I was testing all the kids on their sounds, and I tested Sophie, and she knows all of them,” she told me. “She knew most of them at the beginning of school, but now she knows them all!”
Cool, I thought, having no idea what that really meant, or why Ms. X was so darn excited. The next day I asked her, “You know the sound testing thing? Was Sophie the last kid in the class to get that, or are there others who still haven’t?” (I’m weak; I compare.)
No, I was told. Only one or two other kids in the class have mastered all their sounds.
Well, how was I supposed to know that? I have no idea what to expect of Sophie. She surprises me every day, and I never know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (Or what it says about me, which I fear is not good at all.)
I’m not a prayer kind of person, or a god kind of person, but I feel like maybe there should a Serenity Prayer for Parents:
SOMEONE, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change about my kid;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.