So it started with the Little Yellow Corvette—Mari would wheel it up and down the driveway, whipping it around rocks and dipping between the trees and pumping up the volume on the little radio station she had tuned on Radio Disney. Somewhere along that journey, the girl convinced herself that she could drive. Um, a real car. In fact, when I'm exhausted and don't feel like driving, the 10-year-old often raises her hand and offers to take the wheel.
Let's just say my Mari is a confident little girl. She's good at a lot of things—writing, soccer, art, playing the trumpet, cleaning the kitchen, cooking—and she's not afraid to tell it. In fact she solidified this sentiment last night as she was preparing a writing lesson she's teaching her classmates on Friday—an assignment her teacher awarded her for being, well, a good writer.
Nick: Are you nervous about your teaching?
Nick: So you're good at teaching just like you are driving, huh?
Nick: So you just think there's nothing you can't do, huh?
Mari: Um, well maybe I can't sky dive.
Jesus be a confident 10-year-old with no fear, nerves of steel and the backbone of a gladiator.