I hoped, and I wished, and I prayed. I offered up silent sacrifices befitting the huge favor I was pleading for with my mind. I told myself not to get my hopes up, not to get my heart set on what very well might not happen, and to be ready for the disappointment.
As I live in a town of parents known to be pushy and unreasonable, I kept my desires to myself. I made no demands. I just… kept… hoping against hope that this one little sign of promise would play out in our favor.
Today was the last day of school, and the manila envelope in Chickadee’s backpack held a report card, several miscellaneous informational sheets, and her teacher placement for next year. Together we withdrew the papers, trembling in anticipation. I unfolded the placement letter and let my eyes drop to the signature line…
… and it was signed by Mr. Wonderful, the most coveted teacher in the school.
The girls are all a little bit in love with him, the boys all want to be him, and the parents speak as one voice about how he somehow manages to run the tightest ship around and still draw admiration.
Next year is going to be better.
We danced together, a little jig right there at daycare. We celebrated the joy of anticipation, the excitement of a new adventure awaiting. My darling daughter grinned up at me and said, “I was really hoping for Mr. Wonderful but I didn’t want to say anything! And I GOT HIM!”
“You are one LUCKY GIRL!” I crowed in reply. Maybe it’s not such a big deal; except that for her, it is. For me, it is. Knowing she’ll be in good hands… not just okay hands, or so-so hands… it’s a big deal.
Today is a good day.