Because tonight, Ella Bella, when I was putting you to sleep, you said softly, but enthusiastically, to yourself, "Goodnight, 2nd Grader." And I realized...before you wake up to your 3rd grade year, I need to capture just a little bit of the magic that was Ella Bella, my 2nd grader.
In your 2nd grade year, I watched my 'little girl' transform into more of a 'big girl.' You're not quite a tween...not yet. But you are tall and lean and strong. Once what I would've called a 'girly girl,' you now call yourself a 'sporty girl.' You're a little feminist, believing that girls can do everything and anything boys can do, and reminding me again and again of lessons about fairness that I've tried to teach you along the way. Lessons I too often forget myself.
In 2nd grade, when you asked what you should wear to a fancy dinner, I off-handedly said "I don't know honey, one of your girly dresses," and you corrected me. "Mom, do you mean one of my fancy dresses? Because 'girly' can mean sporty or fancy. There's nothing necessarily 'fancy' about being a girl."
"Touche, my smart girl," I thought. "You're right." And I thanked you for correcting me.
In 2nd grade, you discovered your love of soccer -- or, maybe better put, you discovered that you love competition on a field. You played on an all-boy baseball team last year and joined a girls' softball team this year. You loved swim team, and playing soccer at recess and chasing boys -- mostly to prove to them that you're fast, and you can catch them. In 2nd grade, without hesitation, you climbed to the top of a rope in a grown up gym -- a rope that neither I nor your Daddy can climb. You had the time of your life at Camp Mary Orton, and didn't think twice about spending the night in a tent. In 2nd grade, you discovered just how strong and fast and capable your body is. You love to use it. Your confidence with every inch of your body -- how it looks and how it works and the amazing things it can do -- fills me with joy. I hope you hold onto that confidence as you continue grow into the lovely grown-up woman I know you'll someday be.
In 2nd grade, you became a voracious reader. You sometimes read 4-5 books at one time. You read graphic novels and C.S. Lewis series and biographies on political leaders. You were perhaps most partial to books about strong female characters like Hillary Clinton and Susan B. Anthony and Helen Keller. You again wanted to be a strong female character for Halloween, and you chose Maleficent...not the evil version from the cartoon, but the brave, strong, powerful and kind Maleficent from the movie of the same name. You also love jokes and magic tricks and making people laugh.
In 2nd grade, Ella Bella, you listened. You listened to every word I said. And for now at least, my words matter to you. I know this because I hear you echo my words -- weeks and sometimes months after I say them. Like the times we've talked about what words you can use to respond to a classmate who's being unkind...and I've heard you, weeks or months later, use those exact same words to deal with a tough situation, when you don't even know that I'm listening.
In 2nd grade, I saw my own facial expressions in your face, every day. The funny ones, and the angry ones, and the exasperated ones. The sarcastic ones, and the expressions that say "are you serious?" without saying a word. And each one makes me laugh.
In 2nd grade, you developed a very strong internal barometer for fairness and social justice. When you hear or see someone in a movie or in person or on TV, doing or saying something unkind...you look at me to confirm what you feel and know in your heart. That their words or actions are wrong. And you almost always want to talk about the best way to respond to those injustices. I love that you feel that compassion. That you know that compassion is God's way of telling you to take action. And that your first response is almost always to want to use your words to intervene.
Because in 2nd grade, you grew even more confident in your voice. You know who you are and you know right from wrong and you have learned not to be afraid to use your voice to stand up for yourself, or someone else. I pray that your voice and your convictions continue to grow stronger.
In 2nd grade, you still loved hot dogs and waffles, yogurt and berries. But you also learned to love shrimp, even shrimp scampi. And you won't complain if we ask you to eat chicken or steak. You'll try new foods without complaining...with a sincere interest and open-mindedness that I would never have thought possible just a year ago.
In 2nd grade, you finally lost some teeth -- and you were brave enough to let me pull some out with the good ol' door trick. You adored and doted on your younger cousins Camden and Kenley, Greyson and Lachlan. And you loved every second you got to spend with your older ones, too. You loved sewing with your Nana and visits with Gramps and Grammy and being spoiled and doted on by your Grandma and Papa.
In 2nd grade, you became cool and confident. I watch you in school, and you are a leader. You have an easy way about you. You are comfortable in your own skin. You like who you are. I am grateful.
In 2nd grade, you became even more of a sparkling conversationalist. You can talk to your grandparents on the phone for an hour. You can discuss current events, or history, or your favorite book, or what's going on in your life. And you already know to ask questions so you can learn what's going on in the lives of others, too.
In 2nd grade, you shed (most) of your interest in hairbows and frilly dresses. You like Under Armour sweatshirts and asked for "tall socks" (like the boys wear), and fell in love with your white, Converse high tops I got you for Christmas. You enthusiastically played a "baby chick" in the 2nd grade musical, and you cheered on your friends who joined you on stage.
In 2nd grade, you were a good friend. On the last day of school, you brought home an award from Mrs. Burmester. It said "Kindest encourager." My heart filled with a mix of pride and joy and I thought to myself...there simply isn't any award on earth I'd rather my girl earn. Not just in 2nd grade. But in life. Mrs. Burmester also wrote "Enthusiastic learner!" on the award -- because she saw, like I did, that you went to school every single day with a big appetite to be smarter than you were the day before.
In 2nd grade, you loved your American Girl dolls, your shopkins, your princess barbie dolls, your doll house, and playing with teeny tiny things in your room. You loved carrying bags -- backpacks, shoulder bags, messenger bags -- and filling them up with small but random things you might need -- like pencils and journals, a random assortment of small toys and sunglasses. You happily played in your room, alone, for hours on end...creating little worlds in its corners...worlds that only you understand. You played with your friends for hours at a time, too. You've grown more diplomatic with time, but in 2nd grade, you still loved to be the director...the one in charge of determining the game that'll be played. I pray that I, and your teachers, and the other grow ups in your life, continue to nurture that leader in you, even as we also remind you that sometimes, being a leader means working extra hard to carve out roles so everyone can play, and everyone can shine.
In 2nd grade, you still adore your Poodle. Just today, you brought him to the movies and to our 'back to school dinner.' And you sleep with him every night. Your art teacher Miss Koontz says you managed to work Poodle into almost every single art project in your 2nd grade year. (Just as you did the two previous years.) And you still bring him most places we go. You pack a suitcase of seasonally appropriate clothes for him when we go on vacation, and whether it's Halloween or Christmas Day or a baseball game, you always dress him for the occasion. You are such a responsible pet owner and best friend. When we went to the Chicago Field Museum in your 2nd grade year, it was you who realized that we had misplaced Poodle, and it was you who calmly ran by my side to search for him, before we (GRATEFULLY!) found him in coat check, moments before the museum closed for the night.
In 2nd grade, you adored your home. When we briefly considered moving to a house just down the street, you insisted that we promise never to move, because you love your house just the way it is and you love sharing your backyard with your best friend Lily. You reminded me that to want something 'bigger' or 'fancier' is silly. Because in every way, we already have everything we need, right here, right now.
My precious girl, your 2nd grade year was amazing and inspiring and beautiful and funny and, like you...a dream come true. I thank God for letting me have this gift of being your momma. And I can't wait to see the you that 3rd grade shows me.
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