My daughter had to take a reading comprehension test at school. She had read the book three times. My husband and I had quizzed her on the content, and she had it down cold. She needed to let her teacher know when she was ready to take the test, go to the library to use the computer, and take it.
Days passed. She didn't take the test. She was worried she wouldn't do well. She was worried she wouldn't remember how to log in. She was worried that she wouldn't know what was expected of her, or how to do it. She was worried, and the worry kept her from doing what she needed to do.
Luckily, I'm able to mortify her, already. (She's only seven. I thought I'd have more time.)
I gave her one more chance. I told her that if she didn't take the test the next day, I was going to email her teacher, and ask her teacher to make sure that she got her butt down to the library to take the test.
"But you wouldn't really use the word 'butt' if you wrote to my teacher, would you?" she asked, absolutely aghast.
"Oh yes I would," I replied.
And so she took the test, finally, to avoid the horror of my using the word 'butt' with her teacher.
(She passed.)
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