Stinky started Grade 7 today at a new school. Poor kid.
As I walked her there this morning, she worried incessantly about doing the wrong thing and making a fool of herself. "What if they tell us to go and put everything in our lockers?" she said, "I get confused easily without direct instructions."
She certainly hit the nail on the head with that one. She may be 12, but I still have to remind her to put shoes on before we leave the house.
Then, she muttered under her breath, "Oh, I hope there's a short fat kid in my class." You see, Stinky has an uncanny ability to see to the heart of the matter (even if it's not very politically correct), and I guess anyone that could take the heat off her being the new kid in school would be a welcome distraction today.
After I dropped her off, I watched her for a few minutes from behind some bushes, until I became aware that I probably looked like a child molester, and walked home.
I'm going to pick her up in a few minutes, and I hope her day went well. I also hope there was a short fat kid....because at the end of the day, whatever new situation we're thrown into, isn't that what we all secretly wish for?