My daughter. For as contrary as she might be with me, adores school - everything about it. Her teacher is on the highest pedestal you can imagine. I mean, God's on top, her teacher is barely under.
So, you can imagine my surprise, when I found myself hollering at her to get out from under her brother's bed and get to school our friends our waiting outside. I wasn't even going to make her wear a jacket, it was that bad. I even took away a birthday party before she came out, and even then, it was only because the next birthday party she REALLY wanted to go to was on the line.
It all started because I'm the worst mom in the world and I told her to do the first part of the shoe-tying thing. I was even willing to walk her through it, I just wanted her hands to do it. It was at least ten minutes of stomping around (*mostly* her) and yelling (*mostly* her). She finally relented, very unhappily. She tied the first part, I tied the second part. Then we were fine, until I dared to tell her to put on a coat, it's 45 degrees out there. That was what sent her under the bed.
Fast forward to today. Not only did she do the first part of shoe tying on her own, she asked me to show her the second part. A near miracle. THEN. THEN! After school today, her teacher (not knowing any of the hysteria that had occured the day before) tells me that she's doing really well learning to tie her shoes and she's just about got it and that they had worked together on it.
That little stinker, for all the fussing she did, and barely 24 hours later, she's tying her own stinking shoes.
If I can't handle six, how will I handle sixteen?