ask me how many spelling bees i've been to as a grown up at which i have not cried. go ahead, ask me.
the answer is none.
i have been to *none* spelling bees and not cried.
the weird part is, i'm not even usually tearing up in response to my own child. i had cried maybe five times *total* in my pre-parent life, and now i'm bawling through spelling bees. OVER KIDS THAT ARE NOT EVEN MINE.
motherhood has jacked me up, man.
but back to this year's bee.
summer came to me the night before and said that while heretofore, the school bee had been for fun and games, she now wanted to win and go on to the district spelling bee and possibly ascend through the ranks to washington, dc.
i responded that though i greatly admired her gumption and winner-takes-all attitude (in fact, i had been patiently/impatiently WAITING for it to rear its cutthroat head these past ten years), i was also dubious that fifteen total hours, with most of those spent sleeping, was enough time to get prepped and primed for total domination--especially considering that kids competing at the national level spend upwards of twenty hours a week studying in preparation.
so she (literally) skipped off to bed and sing-songed, "maybe next year then."
that's my summer girl.
her enunciation and performance art were on point. she was gracious and poised and well-spoken. her meticulous studying of the word "balloonist" paid off, and she managed to bring home the bronze.
