she was not at summer camp, which is about the only time she gets mail from us. she was not in trouble at school, so it was not a detention slip. shrieking as i passed her the envelope, she held it in her hands inspecting every inch for clues. it is in her name. it was almost enough to make her burst that she got mail in her name, but wait, it's sealed. she has mail to open! and really, in her name is a stretch. it was addressed to Rob N. (insert a horrendous attempt at spelling our last name). after we had a brief chuckle about that, the bouncing around started up again.
she rips into the envelope and could not believe her eyes. in usual roni fashion, every. single. word. and. breath. in. and. out. was. punctuated. with. crazy. eyes. or. dramatic. pause. or. huge. physical. gesture. or all three combined. she doesn't just tell a story, she TELLS A STORY. go big or go home, that's roni's motto.
she read out loud. Dear Rob N. We are pleased to inform you that we have noticed you! We have noticed your excellent academic performance, blah blah blah. form letter. as my mind starts to wander to supper ideas, i am jolted to attention as i see robin's eyes widen.
she tells me that she cannot even believe that a college is writing to her, that a college is asking her to come there. i see no harm in this so i decide to let her read her beloved letter. i excuse myself to the study, which is a few foot by few foot space in the corner of our bedroom with a bookshelf and desk where this magic happens.
i started to check my accounts on my ipad and got engrossed in a bachelor blog. many minutes later, i had forgotten about roni. she was unusually quiet. i went for a glass of water in the kitchen and found her at my laptop typing away about to hit send on a facebook status. she had typed out the entire letter. word for word. the entire letter, front and back. she was beaming. beaming!
right there i recognized my error in judgement thinking it was harmless to let her be juicy juiced about her first college letter. she gushed and gushed and asked if she could read the whole letter to me. she wanted me to know every single precious word they had said about her. cripes, in a split second i had to figure out how to explain impersonal form letters to her and also keep her excited about the possibilities of college and do this without completely crushing the self-esteem and pride she had just gleaned from this letter.
i started. her shoulders drooped. the crushing commenced. i went forth as sensitively as possible. roni was initially devastated that a college would do that to her. dumbfounded as she shook the letter in front of her face, she choked out 'these words aren't for me?'
by the way- the picture they were painting in those paragraphs was nothing close to my daughter's 9th and 10th grade years of high school. that college cast a delusion spell on her and the antidote was her mother's harsh realism.
by the end of the conversation i felt like a big jerk for dashing her hopes of attending Brown Mackie College of Missouri. but roni needed to know what a form letter means. after 8 seconds she had gotten over it and was now going on and on (and on) about wanting to stay close to home anyway. she knows i will want her over for suppers and smoothies so she couldn't possibly leave me high and dry by going that far away.
the truly grand item crossed off my list:
Poor Roni!! And poor you! No one wants to be the dream shatter-er! Sounds like it went smoothie though, with nice recovery on both parts.
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