When she was six, my daughter went to a school right behind our apartment. We walked over with a little girl from our building and her mom every morning. That morning, the girls decided they were going to have a foot race. My daughter ended up winning the race, and her friend, who was very clearly annoyed, says:
Daughter’s Friend: “Oh well, first is the worst and second is the best anyway.”
My daughter looked at her with a very confused look on her face and said:
Daughter: “So? I’m still first.”
That’s a charming anecdote! Here’s a full story based on that moment, fleshing out the characters and setting:
The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves and the distant, muffled sounds of a city just waking up. For six-year-old Lily, every morning was an adventure, especially the walk to school. Her school wasn’t far, just behind their apartment building, a cozy brick structure nestled amongst others. Every weekday, she and her mom, Sarah, would meet their neighbors, Maya and her mom, Brenda, at the lobby doors. Maya was Lily’s best friend and, in many ways, her playful rival.
This particular morning, the sun was peeking over the rooftops, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. Lily, with her bright red backpack bouncing on her shoulders, was practically vibrating with energy. Maya, a year older and a head taller, exuded an air of confident playfulness.
“Ready, set, go!” Maya suddenly declared, without any warning, breaking into a sprint as they rounded the corner onto the final stretch of pavement leading to the school gates. Lily, caught off guard for a split second, quickly registered the challenge and burst into action, her small legs pumping furiously.
Sarah and Brenda chuckled, watching their daughters race ahead. “They do this every day, don’t they?” Brenda smiled, adjusting her handbag.
“Almost,” Sarah replied, a fond smile on her face as she watched Lily, all determination and focus.
The girls were neck and neck for a few exhilarating seconds, their laughter mingling with the scuffing of their tiny shoes on the sidewalk. But then, with a final surge of effort, Lily pulled ahead. Her short pigtails, usually so neat, were now a wild tangle as she crossed the invisible finish line – a crack in the pavement just before the school’s front path – a full stride ahead of Maya.
Lily skidded to a halt, breathless but triumphant, a wide, gap-toothed grin spreading across her face. “I won!” she squealed, throwing her arms up in victory.
Maya, arriving a moment later, stopped beside her, panting slightly. Her usually cheerful face was now scrunched up in a rather comical expression of annoyance. She knew she’d lost, and her competitive spirit, while usually good-natured, was a little bruised. She puffed out her cheeks, trying to regain her composure.
Then, with a dismissive wave of her hand and a tone that suggested she was simply stating a well-known fact, Maya declared, “Oh well, first is the worst and second is the best anyway.” She folded her arms, looking quite pleased with her quick retort.
Lily’s triumphant grin slowly faded, replaced by a look of utter confusion. Her brow furrowed, and her head tilted slightly to the side. She blinked a couple of times, processing Maya’s words. The logic simply didn’t compute in her six-year-old mind.
After a moment of silence, during which Sarah and Brenda exchanged an amused glance, Lily looked directly at Maya, her big brown eyes wide with genuine perplexity. “So?” she asked, her voice clear and unwavering, “I’m still first.”
Maya’s confident stance wavered. She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, realizing there was no counter to Lily’s unshakeable logic. First was first, no matter what silly rhymes you tried to invent.
Sarah and Brenda finally let out the laughter they’d been holding back. “She’s got a point, Maya,” Sarah said, winking at her daughter.
As they walked the last few steps to the school entrance, the momentary tension dissolved into giggles. Lily, still beaming, proudly walked a little taller, secure in her victory, while Maya, though still slightly miffed, couldn’t help but crack a smile. It was a small, everyday moment, but for Sarah, it was a perfect snapshot of her daughter’s directness and simple, undeniable truth.
Here’s an image of Lily and Maya racing to school!
