Black dress. High heels. Hair perfectly coiffed.

“Why are you all dressed up?” someone asked.

“Tonight is Micah’s parent-teacher conference,” or, as I joked, “Share the Blame Night.”

My theory was simple: If I looked put together they may not judge too harshly for things like last week when Micah wore boy Batman underwear and told the carpool attendant her undies had “cool pockets in front.”

But why was I so nervous?! Of course, I hoped to hear my precious little monster is brilliant, but I also braced myself for walking into a classroom where the behavior chart goes from “PERFECT” to “MICAH.”

I invited my mother-in-law to join me since Barrett was out of town; both for emotional support – and a much-deserved glass of wine afterwards.

We awkwardly settled into our blue chairs built for 4-year-olds, and nervously awaited the first report.

“Micah spent the first couple of weeks fighting on the playground.”

I didn’t breathe. Instead, I pictured Micah as Biff Tannen tormenting two generations of the McFly family.

Then it turned.

“But we didn’t say anything to you because she quickly settled in and the fighting stopped. Then her work started improving. She started participating, and now she’s a real class leader. She’s one of the sharpest in the class. And by far, one of the most polite students we’ve ever had. You can just tell, yes, you can tell, Micah has a good and sweet soul.”

So there I sat, in a blue chair built for 4-year-olds, with tears running down my cheeks, not looking put together at all. Not one bit.

“Find though she be but little, she is fierce [with a good and sweet soul].” – Shakespeare

Micah Maddox River Farm