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FIFTEEN, MAYBE SIXTEEN, THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT

My pants could maybe fall down when I dive off the diving board.

My nose could maybe keep growing and never quit.

Miss Brearly could ask me to spell words like stomach and special.

(Stumick and speshul?)

I could play tag all day and always be "it."

Jay Spievack, who's fourteen feet tall, could want to fight me.

My mom and my dad — like Ted's — could want a divorce.

Miss Brearly could ask me a question about Afghanistan.

(Who's Afghanistan?)

My mother could maybe decide that I needed more liver.

My dad could decide that I needed less TV.

Miss Brearly could say that I have to write in script and stop printing.

Chris could stop being best friends with me.

The world could maybe come to an end on next Tuesday.

The ceiling could maybe come crashing on my head.

I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about.

And then I'd have to do my homework instead.

Copyright © 1981 by Judith Viorst