Coat: ASOS. (also similar here and here.) Jeans: J Crew. (and similar here and here.) Sweater: Target. (similar here and here.) Boots: Hunter Kids. (adult’s here.) Bag: Kenneth Cole Reaction. (similar here and here.) Necklace: JCrew Factory. (similar here, here and here.)
Last Thursday, Hannah came home from school with a permission slip. A traveling children’s theater was coming to their school and she wanted to try out for the play. The Princess and the Pea. She explained all the details to me, and asked if she could stay after school on Monday afternoon to try out, she could barely contain her excitement. It reminded me of myself at that age. I told her I thought that was a wonderful idea and I signed the paper. On Friday we got an email from the school. Apparently, a lot of kids were just as excited about the children’s theater coming to town and there wouldn’t be parts for everyone. Hannah was worried, but I told her to just do her best, and not to worry about the rest.
On Monday afternoon, I drove over to the school. The tryout lasted until 5 o’clock and kids that made the play would have to stay until 7:30 to rehearse. Everyone else would be sent home. I packed Hannah a little dinner in a brown paper sack, just in case. Warm macaroni and cheese, grapes, a juice box and some cookies, and waited nervously outside the tryout room. When the teacher in charge told us it was time to come in, I walked apprehensively into the room. There were dozens of children, some of them holding papers, some of them not. The kids holding papers in their hands looked happy; many of the children with empty hands were crying. I searched through the crowd until I saw Hannah, quietly gathering up her backpack, no paper in hand. She walked over to me with a look of forced cheerfulness on her face, but I know my daughter and her heart was broken. She’s brave, she didn’t break in front of anyone, she didn’t cry, but she was deeply disappointed and I knew it. It broke my heart.
I put my arm around her and told her I was so proud of her for trying out, and then we got in the car and drove to get a milkshake. Because sometimes the only cure for a broken heart is ice cream.
I asked her about the tryout as we drove and she told me all about what they had them do, and how they had them line up by size so she had to stand with all the kids that were 3 years younger than her (sorry kiddo, that’s my fault), and then suddenly, right in the middle of telling me, her throat got thick and she choked up. Hannah is so, so brave, but I told her it’s okay to cry sometimes. (at this point, I was ready to pummel whatever dingbat it was who didn’t cast her in the play. kidding…sort of.)
I suddenly knew exactly how my mom felt all those times when I tried out for something that I didn’t make. It’s a horribly powerless feeling. And still, the truth is, I’m glad she experienced this.
Disappointment is part of life. Bad things, hard things happen all the time. Life does not discriminate. Good people get sick, smart people fail, hard workers don’t always get the reward. It’s one of those unfortunate truths about the world. And I want my children to understand that. I want them to experience disappointment, learn to deal gracefully with it, to get yourself a milkshake and move on. To not let it shake your sense of self, your confidence. I want them to experience it now, when I can hug them tight and tell them they are magnificent. I want them to understand the feeling of being let-down and then so, so loved right after. I want them not to be afraid to try and fail, many times if necessary. To be secure enough to never let those failures shake them to their core. It’s an ambitious desire, but I think it’s possible.
On Monday evening, after we read scriptures, Hannah asked if she could be the one to read aloud. We read books to the kids at night, and right now we’re reading The Magician’s Nephew, by CS Lewis. Hannah’s a big Narnia fan and a wonderful reader, so I handed the book to her and listened while she articulated the adventures of Polly and Diggory. She’s incredible. She reads with so much personality, her voice inflection just right, she made us all laugh in the funny parts, and sit on the edge of our seats during the suspenseful ones. I was in awe. (this happens a lot with Hannah) But mostly, I realized that she’s going to be just fine. Everyday she’s growing more into herself, more sure and confident. She’s going to catch anything life throws at her, and toss it right back again. Every so often, I get a glimpse into who my kids are going to be when they’re all grown up and it just tickles me pink.
Hannah’s future is so very bright.
