Yesterday afternoon when my First Grader (carefully and slowly – this is her way) got off the big, yellow, 30-year-old school bus, she immediately ran over to me and her sister to tell me something important, but I could’t quite understand what it was on the first pass.
At the same time she was trying to tell me, her neighborhood friends (who had also just gotten off the bus) were also trying to tell me: on the school announcements that morning, my big six-year old was named “Citizen of the Month” for her class.
Proud? I couldn’t even talk. Reduced to tears at the bus stop in front of half my neighbors, I was weepingly happy.
My friend remarked that the award is more for the parents than the children at this age, and I mostly agree. However, I really want my daughter to take away from this that words matter. Actions matter. The way you treat other people and your environment MATTER. For her to get this certificate three weeks into the school year at a new school in an environment with which she was totally unfamiliar is just the thing that makes my heart burst with pride. And I want her to feel proud of herself, too.
So obviously I am the World’s Greatest Mother, right? Oh, except for this morning when I went in to my two-year-old’s room, there she stood in her crib (yes, she’s still in a crib) with no pants on, holding her diaper in her hand, with PEE e-v-e-r-y-where.
So you might want to hold off on my award.