It's Nothing...

It is my humble opinion that the absolute most amusing phrase a parent can use is "it's nothing, you'll see." This is a very versatile phrase with a number of applications. Is your four-foot-tall, frizzy-haired, history-loving kid worried about cheerleading tryouts? It's nothing, you'll see. Is your kid's favorite cat going to the vet to have a sock and three pennies removed from its stomach? It's nothing, you'll see. Is your kid not exactly excited about going to the dentist to have their teeth pulled--the day after their birthday? It's nothing, you'll see.
Yes, this vaguely positive method of evasion can be used in many ways. However, I must admit I have a favorite use of the all-purpose phrase: To soothe the trepidation (Ooo, vocab word! My former English teacher from hell would be so proud!) of lifelong committment to a daily annoyance. Here's what I mean. When I was about four or five, my mother introduced me to the hygenic wonder that is the toothbrush. She showed me how to run the bristles over my teeth, explaining to me why this rather odd ritual was necessary. At the end of the lesson, I only had one question:
"Mommy, do I have to do this for the rest of my life?"
You'll never guess what she said...
"It's nothing, you'll see."
Considering the year or two it took me to learn to brush my teeth twice a day, every day, with toothpaste, like a normal person...you'll see why I find this phrase so dubious.
Another such incident was when I got contacts. This was, I must admit, quite recent; my eyes decided to follow the route of every one of my family members', miserably and suddenly failing me in the middle of my junior year. I was given my first pair of transluscent nemeses just this summer.
Something you should know about me: I am not one for motor skills, fine or otherwise. In fact, in the alotted hour and a half did not suffice for the whole sticking-a-strange-slimy-thing-in-your-eye-then-pinching-it-out-again-against-your-better-judgement lesson. I had to (cue scary music)...go back a second time!
A week later, when it was still taking me half an hour to get them in in the morning and an hour to get them out again at night, I went to my mother in a state of despair.
"Maybe I should just get glasses," I lamented, "even though they look hideous on me..."
"You'll get it," she assured me.
"I haven't yet," I complained.
"Oh, it's nothing," she said, "you'll see."
So...what do you say when your anal-retentive, perfectionist, academically-oriented high school senior (who has had her sights set on William & Mary since she was 12) expresses her concerns about college applications?
It's nothing, you'll see.
Yours &c,
E. A. Weatherfield.