Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Life Lessons, Mother, Mothering, Mothers and Daughters | Posted on 11-12-2012
My daughter is ten years old. She is thriving.
Isn’t that an awesome word to describe children?
Healthy. Smart. Friendly. Kind. Pretty. Thriving.
She used to be on the shy side. She was quietly happy and happily quiet. At my encouraging, she had play dates. At my pushing, she got friends’ phone numbers at recess. Now she schedules her own play dates.
On her report cards, her teachers write “she is a pleasure to have in class”…”all of the kids like her”…”she makes others feel calm.”
Wow. To me, those words are more important than As. It just took her a few years to build confidence. And to thrive.
Today when I was jogging with my dog, Otis. We passed her elementary school while they were at recess.
Otis stood statue-like, nose in the air, tail in the air, watching the kids. (And to pee.) I squinted through the crowds of children and spotted my daughter playing kick ball against the wall with her friends. They were laughing. Squealing. Dancing. High-fiving. Thriving.
I yelled her name. She didn’t hear. I yelled again and waved like a maniac. She didn’t hear. And she certainly didn’t need Mom checking in on her.
Fast forward 10 years? I know, now, that she will be just fine.