Growing Up

On the eve of her first day of fourth grade, Alyssa had a hard time going to sleep.

She’s had a tough time falling asleep before the first day of school each year since kindergarten. But this year was different. She didn’t need to talk to me deep into the night about her fears, her worries, her shy little heart breaking at the thought of going into that big school and me driving away without her.

No, this year wasn’t about anxiety. It was about excitement. She couldn’t wait for the morning to come so she could get on that bus and see her friends.

This warmed my heart. My firstborn is so much like me. Her shyness isn’t put on, it’s not born out of arrogance or aloofness, thought it may appear that way to those who are subjected to her shyness.

No, she’s just reserved. Like her mom. Now, those who know me in real life, who have met me during my adulthood are probably laughing at this.

But until I was sixteen and started a job as a waitress, I was painfully shy. I couldn’t, literally, could not, force words out of my mouth to adult strangers.

And so I get Alyssa. I get her stress, her fear, her shyness. And this is why I don’t push. I encourage her to go beyond her comfort zone because I know that’s how I worked through my own social insecurities.

With her excitement over the new school year, the engagement she had with her friends, I know she’s going to be just fine. Yes, we have some ways to go to fully get past her shyness, but she’s nine, she’s got time.

After all, I don’t plan to make her get a job where she had to talk to strangers for at least three more years. Kidding. Maybe.