"Mommy, I'm scared." 

I was driving Sofia to school, crawling forward through the parent loop's unforgiving traffic, when I first heard these words come out of her mouth. The words themselves weren't particularly memorable, but coming from a cute seven-year-old second grader who shouldn't have anything in the world to worry about, they were mildly concerning. 

I left one hand on the wheel- the van in front of me didn't look like it was going to move forward more than a couple of inches anytime soon- and turned around to look at my daughter in the face. 

"Sweetheart, it's only a math test. You're the smartest little girl I know- you're going to do perfectly fine." 

This seemed to bring her some level of comfort as she relaxed in her seat, clutching the worn teddy bear in her lap more firmly to her chest. "That's what Mr. Peppermint said, too. Did you hear that Mr. Peppermint? We're going to do great!" 

I smiled softly as she conversed with the last remnant of her preschool days. He had one ear missing and a button for an eye, but Sofia wouldn't be seen without him. She continued to whisper quietly into his one remaining ear until we finally reached the front of the loop. 

"Goodbye, honey!" I called after her as she opened the door and hopped out onto the sidewalk outside, slinging her purple backpack over her narrow shoulders. I drove away as slowly as possible, watching as she skipped through the large, gray school doors. 

Sofia didn't know it, but today was going to be one of the most important days of her elementary school life.