Anxious

Maddie is a very anxious child. She's a perfectionist, which is often a source of great angst. She started third grade this year, and heard a lot from various grown ups in her life (including me and Dave) that third grade was the big leagues. TOTAL FAIL. Seriously, I don't know what we were thinking, 'cause guess what? 2 weeks into third grade she was crying about how much harder it is than second grade.

It really isn't though - she just psychs herself out. Mostly she likes it fine and does just fine.

You know what she's worried about this week? Passing the 1 mile run part of the President's physical fitness test. That's right, my child is afraid of gym class. She has managed to convince herself that running the mile means running, full tilt, as fast as she can, for the entire mile, and that if she does that she'll get a stitch in her side, her throat will hurt, and she'll throw up, which will be beyond embarrassing. No matter how much I tried to convince her last night that the person who finishes first and the person who finishes last get the same grade, and that running the mile just means jogging the mile, she just couldn't think rationally about it. Since the one mile run wasn't even scheduled to occur until Friday (tomorrow), I just cut off all discussion after a certain period of time, since it was obvious that she was just getting more upset.

So tonight, she brings it up again, and Dave says:

"Look - this is ridiculous. Did anyone die doing it Tuesday? (boys did it Tuesday).

"No."

"Did anyone burst into flames?"

"No," this time with a smile.

"Did anyone's head explode like a watermelon?"

"No," this time with a big grin.

"Then, on Friday, when you're doing it, if anyone dies, bursts into flames, or gets hit by an exploding head, you can start walking instead of running."

She laughed and hasn't mentioned it again. This, after I spent a half hour yesterday trying to coax her out of hysterics. I'm going to choose to think I laid the groundwork for this result.