Now that Cat is in second grade, she has weekly spelling tests. The week’s words are distributed on Mondays with tests the following Friday. Last week was her first test and she scored a perfect 12 out of 12 despite having words like princess, actress and krill. She was jubilant.

This week the pressure is on. There was no school Monday which means the list didn’t come home until Tuesday. This was a busy week with Tate’s birthday and other odd interruptions so the practice has been more sporadic.

Though it is only a second grade spelling test, I am amazed but the level of angst I feel on Cat’s behalf. As we practice, I sit listening and realize only when she has spelled a word correctly do I remember to breathe. Fortunately, she is a pretty strong speller or I would have passed out by now.

Cat and I have a system for her spelling practice. We write the words on index cards, and then I read the word aloud and she spells it. If she spells the word correctly, she takes the card and puts it in her pile. If she spells any word incorrectly, I get ALL of the cards in her pile. The goal is for her to take all of my cards. Her natural senses of greed and competitiveness kick in pretty early in the process until she is determined to leave me empty-handed. Up until tonight though, I was the one holding all of the cards at bed time, and neither of us was happy with that outcome.

Tonight, after birthday cake, 90 minutes of homework, a rousing game of Operation, and bath it was time for our last spelling scrimmage. As we started through the pile I was torn between happiness at her increasing confidence with the words and fear that once again, I would be the “winner” in our competition. For once, I desperately wanted to be left empty-handed listening to trash talk. I am normally pathologically competitive, but I did not want to win this one.

She breezed through gang, yank, honk, sung and fang. She took chunk and crank, which had caused her to stumble earlier in the week, without missing a beat. King, wink and blink fell easily and with increasing sass in her tone. We were down to three cards and my stomach started to churn. Literally. The source of my discomfiture? Because, second and thankful.

She plowed steadily through because thanks to a mnemonic about elephants. She hesitated on second, for a second, but finished strong with a victory whoop with high fives all around and a booty dance chaser by both of us. We were high on literacy and feeling fine.

And then there was one. One card. Thankful.

She started “T-H-A” and then stopped and stared at me for a second. “Ummmm. N. K. ummmm FUL” she finished in a rush.

“One more time,” I said. “I want to be sure I heard you right. Take me through it one more time, just like you did.”

“T-H-A-N-K-F-U-L” she said to the sound of me exhaling loudly. “Thankful.”

Now she knows the spelling, and I know the meaning.