Perchance to dream

Remember the way Middle likes to take years off my life wake me up in the morning? You know, by kneeling beside the bed and simply staring at me until the mere force of her presence in the room causes me to open my eyes, meet hers, and then sit bolt upright screaming?

Well, she hasn't inherited that habit from her sister. Oldest's approach to the dilemma of Sleeping Mommy is much less subtle, more hands-on. She is of the shake-and-shout school of waking, although it's more of an urgent murmur than a shout. Typically, she parks herself on my legs - I'll point out here that she outweighs me by about 25 pounds, and then commences. "Mom," she'll whisper, grabbing my arm in a death grip. "MOM."

Oddly enough, this does not cause me to sit bolt upright screaming, partly because she's sitting on me, remember? In fact, I don't even open my eyes. I simply mumble "yep," to indicate that I've switched on the receivers, and she goes on to tell me whatever it is she needs to tell me. (things like, "we're out of milk" or "can I have five dollars?")

But with maturity comes wisdom (or is it the other way around?) and this morning, just three days before her 17th birthday, she refrained from the sitting, the shaking and the shouting. Instead, she started poking me in the arm with what I think was a pencil. (isn't it weird how the body recognizes the sensation of that tiny round eraser pushing at your skin?)

"Uh huh," I mumbled.

"My scores are in. But I don't know what they mean."

Scores? Did I miss a ball game? What's she talking about? "Wha...?"

"I got 580 in reading, 570 in Math and 540 in Writing. But it says those are my raw scores and I don't know what that means."

I don't know either, because it's 6:45 a.m. and I'm barely conscious enough to know who she is. "What?"

"My SAT scores are in. What do they mean?"

"Wake up daddy and ask him."

Yep, Motherrr of the Yearrrrr, that's me.

Anyway, many hours later, I realized that at some point during the conversation I had promised to look into it. So around noon I found myself sitting at my desk, first trying to determine if the exchange had been real or imagined. Thank goodness those tiny round pencil erasers leave marks.

What it means is that she did reasonably well for a kid who has never been prepared in any way to take the SATs, except for some math tutoring in September. And she did well enough that the door to the college of her choice still stands open.

She won't have to write them again.

Cultural observation, courtesy of Linda: In the US, they take tests. In Canada, we write tests. How weird is that?

So. SAT season is over in this house, and we've survived. The next set of letters we'll be fretting about are G, P and A. Think good thoughts.

Comments

[cassie-b]

That sounds like good scores to me. Congratulations to your daughter.

and happy birthday to her - only a wee bit early.

Cas

[cassie-b]

That sounds like good scores to me. Congratulations to your daughter.

and happy birthday to her - only a wee bit early.

Cas

[Jenn PB]

I thought SAT's were an American thing. I don't remember writing them.
Happy Birthday Oldest!!

[Oldest]

You've neglected to mention that you called me at lunch time and asked if I had said something about the SATs. Never try and talk to this woman in the morning folks. It's pointless. Happy Early Birthday to me!