Trying To Be A Big Girl

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            “Hurry up,” says Mommy. “We’re late for afternoon coffee.”

            I don’t want to be fast. Kindergarten makes me tired.

            “Don’t you want to see Grandma and Grandpa, your aunties and uncles, and cousins?”

            “I do want to,” I say. I always get to drink coffee with lots of sugar and milk. And cookies. I like peanut butter cookies ‘specially.

            “Time to go. Come on.”

            I put my Roy Rogers lunchbox away. Hang up my pink sweater in the closet like I’m s’posed to. And I have to go potty.

            “We’re leaving without you if you aren’t ready soon.”

            “OK.” I want to put on my new red rubber boots first, so everyone can see them.

            “Fine,” says mother. “Your sister and I are leaving without you. See you there.”

            I hear the door slam. I didn’t think she’d leave me. My tummy feels funny. I’ve never been all by myself.

            I go to the toilet and wash my hands after peeing. Then it’s real quiet. My heart beats loud. I don’t want to be a scaredy cat. I think of God, and church. What would God do?

            I start singing “Jesus Loves Me” as loudly as I can. It’s the bestest song at Sunday School:

            “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong. They are weak but He is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me! Yes, Jesus loves me! Yes, Jesus loves me!”

            That’s all I know. I sing it again, real loud, so I can’t be scared. I open the front door. Something real big jumps at me:

            “BOO!” it yells.

            I jump. Higher than I ever have. And I scream. Very loud.

            Then I see my sister.

            I’m shaking. I don’t think she’s funny. Sometimes she makes me real mad.