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Loading ...Are you smarter than a seven-year-old?
Last Saturday, Lois’ coach asked me to keep score at their YMCA volleyball game. I trotted over to the officials’ table, licking my fingers in anticipation of flipping plastic scoring numerals. After several minutes of correction by the seven-year-old son of the opposing coach, the ref finally asked me, “You do know the scoring rules changed three years ago, right?”
Uhhhhhh….that would be “no,” since last I played was about 20 years ago. Come to find out the YMCA now plays with “rally scoring,” where one of the teams gets a point with every serve. News to me! But not to the seven-year-old boy sitting next to me.
Tonight, seven-year-old Julia whipped out her second – and final – Texas Primary Reading Inventory. She passed the initial test in January, but this is the one that really counts. And – per her (sainted) teacher – she’s ready for first grade! No ESL curve, no extra points, no nothing. Just “developed.”
Here’s Julia, talking about her kindergarten year:
So can you believe she likes to swing? Surprising, huh?
We’re coming up on the one year anniversary of our court date. While most adoptive families celebrate “Gotcha Day” at this landmark, we are instead creating “Sisters Day” – the day we came home, May 18. Because without Rachel, Lois and Hannah, there would be no Julia. So we don’t want to be leaving anyone out.
In one year, Julia has:
- Moved around the world with two parents she didn’t know to live with three sisters she didn’t know while learning a language she didn’t know, eating food she didn’t know, riding in “machinas” she didn’t know, going to a school she didn’t know….everything and everyone she just didn’t know.
- Begun to ask the occassional questions about God and Jesus.
- Discovered she likes all kinds of foods.
- Mastered everything in her riding height range at Fiesta Texas.
- Learned to skate, ride a two-wheel bike and a scooter.
- Learned to speak and “read” English well enough to be promoted to 1st grade. Not all of her native English-speaking peer group was as successful.
I could go on and on. And sometimes have. So pardon me. But I am just so proud. When I reflect on her bravery – taking our hands and walking away from everything she knew at Children’s Home #47 – I am amazed.
And humbled.
Because as the little boy at the volleyball game showed – and as my own daughter shows me, too – I am not always smarter than a seven-year-old.
But hopefully, no one is keeping score.
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