The youngest was pretty stoked with how her life went yesterday – she couldn’t wait to tell me all about it when I got home.
She got her first 20 out of 20 in a spelling test, which she thought was awesome because spelling isn’t her thing. But also kinda crap because it means she now has to do “extension” words next week.
Then she got the “kid of the week” award thingy at school. It said it was “for always being a caring and thoughtful class member. Thank you for always trying your best. You were fantastic at camp.”
(The youngest went on a three-day school excursion last week and didn’t go into anaphylactic shock at the cattle property – she’s allergic to cows – or become catatonic with fear on the steepest train ride in the world – she’s terrified of heights – both of which had been offered as possible scenarios to her teacher as we handed him an epi pen when she boarded the bus at 6.15am on Monday morning.)
Bless Mr T, isn’t that a lovely message to give a kid?
Then her school netball team creamed their opponents – after recently going up a grade – 21 to 0.
Then we opened her Naplan results, which revealed that she was on the edge of being Level 8 for reading.
We were both stunned when we saw that. Totally gobsmacked.
We’re talking about a kid who has struggled with reading her whole school life. She’s not interested, it’s even less her thing than spelling.
Her dad was pretty stunned too when I told him.
I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s pretty cool.
Earlier this year her teacher told us we really needed to work on the reading as it would hold her back in all other areas. But life as a single parent is busy and hard and we’ve been pretty crap at keeping on top of it.
Yet she’s triumphed despite her parents’ failings.
Then I took her to secret netball last night and her team won by three points – they’re through to the finals!
I feel a bit bad not telling her dad, but I’m thinking I’ll hold off and confess if they get through to the grand final.
Is that wrong?
The youngest’s Nonna and Pop came to watch her play in the semi finals. She – and they – were thrilled. Her mother, on the other hand, was a jittering basket case. That game was TENSE.
Afterwards we went to her Aunty’s house for pizza and champers to celebrate. Well, the champers was just for the adults, but it’s the thought that counts.
The youngest eagerly washed her hair and changed into her new $12 Kmart hi-tops and Target chambray baggy pants for the occasion. She thought she was looking pretty smooth …
She also got to eat the better part of her favourite pizza – pepperoni – followed by a bowl of Golden Gaytime ice cream.
She went to bed pretty smiley last night.
And that’s what an awesome day looks like to a 10-year-old.
Don’t you wish you were 10 again sometimes?
Actually, I don’t. I wasn’t a huge fan of being a kid. I was so shy and awkward and last to be chosen for sporting teams. I think that’s why I get such a kick out of how much my daughter is enjoying it all.
Her joy is so pure and lovely and infectious.
I look forward to every new day with my children. Between them and the Pittwater dolphins I’m constantly reminded how lucky I am.
Gawd, I sound like some sort of sickly sweet meme.
Speaking of sickly sweet, I’m off to buy some more gelatin and cream so the youngest can make a new batch of raspberry mousse slice for her grandparents to try for dessert tonight.
Have an awesome Saturday.
Song of the day: Natalie Merchant “These are the days”