Are my daughter's worries normal or do we have an issue?

My daughter’s return to school this week has signalled the beginning of yet another year of worry.

Not mine I hasten to add, but hers.

For a child so capable and confident, she worries more than anyone I’ve ever known.

Since she began school three years ago, every end-of-year report has noted this particular trait of hers and mentioned specific methods will may help in the coming year.

“Grace is a popular little girl who mixes well with her classmates, but she does have a tendency to worry so needs a little minding,” wrote last year’s teacher.

Her issues are never worthy of the level of worry and concern she experiences and I’ve been told that some children tend to be a little more anxious than others, but still, it breaks my heart that she ties herself in knots over the smallest things.

This week alone I have had to placate her over five separate issues which I’m certain wouldn’t have even factored in on her brother or schoolmates’ radar.

First there was the art shirt issue.

She literally couldn’t rest until I unearthed an old work shirt of her fathers, sewed her name into it and placed it in her school bag, even though it wouldn’t be needed until mid-October, and even then she asked the teacher the following morning if it was OK.

Then there was the seating arrangement.

She had been placed beside a new girl which caused her undue panic. Despite the fact Grace is a warm and affable little girl, she was horrified to be seated by someone she didn’t know because she insisted she wasn’t able to talk to her.

I reminded her that the new girl was ten times more worried than she was, but it still kept her awake at night until I approached the new pupil’s mum and explained the situation.

Formal introductions were made and thankfully, Grace can now count Anna as a pal.

Once we overcame that issue, Grace began fretting she might wet herself if the teacher didn’t give her permission to use the bathroom when she asked.

“Has a teacher ever stopped you from using the bathroom before?” I asked.

Reluctantly she admitted that this had never happened, but still she fretted.

“But what if she does? What if she does?” she pleaded.

A private chat between me, Grace and her teacher reassured my daughter that no matter what was taking place in the classroom, Grace would always, always be allowed go to the bathroom if she needed to.

And now onto problem number four.

Unlike the other children in the class whose books are covered with clear plastic, I covered Grace’s with brown paper.

Grace has two Maths books and when the teacher explains which one she needs the children to work from, Grace panicked because I didn’t identify which one was which on the cover.

It was a small slip-up which I’ve since rectified, but Grace shed tears over the issue before she came to me with the problem.

Once I re-wrote the label on Grace’s Maths book, she found yet another thing to worry about.

Her school tie wasn’t the same as the other childrens and what if the principal shouted at her about it?

“The principal knows you have a different tie because Daddy bought the wrong one, but your new one will be arriving next week,” I promised.

“But what if it doesn’t?” she whimpered.

What if? What if? What if?

My child spends her days considering the ‘what if’s’ instead of basking in the gorgeous personality she’s been blessed with and properly enjoying the company of her classmates who are only too eager to be her friend.

She forsees disaster at every turn and I’m just hoping against hope that she does just need ‘a little bit of minding’ and will soon grow out of it.

I don’t think my heart, or hers, can take another ten years of this.