Every morning this school year I have been Miss America. And it has been lovely. I have a darn good wave down pat. Then suddenly, one day, my title gets ripped from my grasp. My crown gets stepped on.
Indulge me as I explain my fall from grace. Maddie started in a new classroom this year. And let’s just say the transition did not go smoothly. I was that mom that lost a chunk of hair, had teachers blocking her child’s escape at the door, and heard her screams down the hall and out the door. It was a catastrophe of epic proportions for about two weeks straight.
Enter Miss Kathy, miracle worker. Maddie can stand on her special little stool and wave to mommy as she goes to her car and then back into the building on the other side. For a few weeks, Maddie clung to her like a lifeline in the window. Until slowly, she stood on that stool herself and waved furiously to me along with whatever animal friend she brought with her that day.
We start a routine. Kiss. Hug. High Fives. Sure. Kiss animal friend. Hug animal friend. High five animal friend. You got it kid. Head outside and cue the wave. It’s fabulous. It twists from side to side. I have a killer smile. We added blowing graceful kisses. People think I am nuts. I don’t care. It’s our moment. I walk into work every morning with a smile on my face and a light heart. You can’t beat that. People pay good money for that kind of feeling. I get it for free.
Until recently. My daughter is growing up. She dares to skip days of waving now in favor of playing with her friends. Am I proud of her? Absolutely. Am I impressed with her maturity? You bet. Am I excited that she is becoming more outgoing? Heck yes.
But I want to be Miss America again. I need to be Miss America for a long time yet. I’m not ready to stop.
I’m like a little kid each morning, holding my breath to find out what my present is: a hideous sweater from Grandma Paula, or my shining and sparkly crown??? And my three-year old holds all the power.
I just want to be Miss America Maddie, can we do it one more time?