Please don’t make me be in the Olympics

Sophie is bouncing on her bed.

“Watch me!” she says. “Watch how high I can jump!”

“Wow,” I say, “that’s really something. You’re good at jumping.”

“Yeah.”

“And you run really fast.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then why did all your friends say you did in your ‘I AM SPECIAL’ book from school? They said you ran really fast and that you were great on the monkey bars.”

She thinks about this and smiles. “Oh, yeah.”

“Maybe you’ll be in the Olympics someday,” I say.

She sighs and slumps on her bed. “Do I have to be an Olympicker? I’m already going to be a dressmaker and a veterinarian.”

“No, you don’t have to be an Olympian.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to be that.”

Okay, then.

18 comments May 15th, 2006