Pick's school fundraiser jog-a-thon is today. She was very excited about it yesterday as we filled out our pledge forms. Aunt Rock Star sis asked her how many laps she thought she could do, and that worried Pick a bit. She had no idea. (1 lap = 1/4th mile. She gets an hour.)
I said, "I bet you could do ten laps in an hour."
That sounded like a lot to her.
It would have been a tremendous amount of laps for me at her age, but I wasn't thinking straight. I was thinking of what seemed reasonable for a grown-up who didn't have to go back and finish out an entire school day after. I bungled it.
I found that out when she woke me up in the middle of the night and asked worriedly, "What if I can't jog ten laps? Does that mean I won't raise enough money?"
"I'll cover the difference. Go back to bed."
"No, I have to do it. But what if I did five? Would that be enough?"
"You do five, it'll be enough. You do ten, it'll make up the difference for other kids."
"I'm gonna do ten, then."
(All funds raised go directly to the school, which Pick knows. She has decided it is her responsibility to help fill the budget gap.)
Pick also picked mums for her substitute teacher this morning, idea all on her own. She wrapped them in a wet paper towel and foil so they'd stay fresh on the bus. She just thought they would make the sub feel welcome, she said.
And Pick's penpal is my pal Amos's 85-year-old mother. They say such wonderful things back and forth, even my sister got teary-eyed hearing the note Pick received yesterday. This is why Pick wants to learn cursive now (she was apathetic about it before), so she can do a better job of reading her penpal's beautiful letters. I had to make her go to bed before answering her letter straight away. "You have your jog-a-thon tomorrow, kiddo. You need your sleep!"
"Oh yeah. Right! But remind me tomorrow, Okay??" Off she ran, like a fairy over the flowers, her invisible wand raised in case something else needed fixing.
My kid is fantastic.
Probably why I've grown less tolerant of the less than fantastic people.
I'm spoiled in knowing the world will be in better hands another generation or so.
If we don't squelch that joyous spirit out of them in the meantime, I mean.
Go get 'em today, Eleanor! I love you, kid.
***
(Afternoon post-bus update: Pickles did 10 laps.)
© Copyright 2011 Angeline Larimer
