The Little Things You Do And Do Not Do

It was really suprising.

It was surprising, not because The Cool Kid had bagged first prize in a ‘science olympiad’ in his school but because he hadn’t told anyone at home about it.

I, with my faux-skeptic smile, teased, “did you really?”

He kept his composure as if he couldn’t care less. “So be it if you don’t believe it.”

Oh I do! I think I know what you are capable of. But I was struck by his blasé attitude, not bragging about it. Teens his age like to brag, don’t they? Which is normal.

Mom found out when she had been congratulated left, right, and centre, not knowing why until The Cool Kid’s homeroom teacher mentioned his winning against the whole school. “His teacher said it had been a spectacle that the whole class paraded him around the school,” she relayed the story. There was a prize still untouched at school that had yet to be brought home.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s nothing. I was just lucky.”

More than ranking first in the olympiad, I cannot hide my proud smile that he’d developed a sense of humility (hopefully) through the ordeal. I called him The Cool Kid for a reason. This was part of it.

I ruffled his hair and pinched his chubby cheek.

“Ouch!”

I pinched his other chubby cheek and offered a handshake, “congratulations!” not for winning but for keeping a cool head.

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