April 4, 2008

Seriously, I'm not kidding

Well people, it’s time for a little chat about the birds and the bees. You see, sometimes two people just come together at the right time and fireworks go off. They happen to meet, say when there is a full moon, and they both just got haircuts, and they both happen to be wearing their favorite jeans. In a cosmic stroke of good luck, he says the right thing about Obama’s 37 and she laughs, then she happens to know that the Yankees lost last night and he is totally smitten. It’s love from the start and there’s nothing anyone can do about.

I know, it’s the same story time and time again. Young men and women meet and fall in love. They have children and the beautiful process begins again. How young though, can these magical little sparks appear in people? When I was in sixth grade I had a “girlfriend” who I barely ever talked to, and even forgot that we were “going out” when I went home for the summer. The next year, at the start of seventh grade, I was greeted with evil looks from her and her friends, and immediately realized that I wasn’t a single man. Well, I was actually. I just didn’t arrive there the way I presumed.

I was 12 when this took place and a full two years from the first time I would come home dumbstruck and tell my father I was in love. I understand though, that the kids these days are dating sooner then I ever dreamed. Today, astonishingly, I witnessed this cultural phenomenon first hand…with my own 9 month old daughter.

Gymboree was coming to a close, with a rousing rendition of the parachute game…

Up, up, up to the very top
(James, class leader and all around cool dude saunter crawls to the middle of the gym mat)
Down, down, down on their heads it stops
(Annie, class cutie and all around little charmer coquettishly wanders off under the cover of a nylon rainbow)
Up, up, up to the very top
(James’ mother and I exchange glances across the dome that is a rising 20 foot parachute as we are sure one of our kids is about the pull the other’s hair)
Down, down, down on their heads ker-plop
(After a tiny little second, when the parachute is on the way up, the record skips and all the other moms stare in utter disbelief as James and Annie lock lips in the middle of our parental circle. Time stands still while we all let go and the chute flutters away. The two babies steal one last kiss, um, yeah, three last kisses, and the class erupts in red-faced laughter.)

I’ve been trying to get Annie to kiss her dad for weeks now, only to find out that she has had eyes for another man all along. Their Gymboree wedding is going to be the party of the year. Gymbo is of course officiating.

Every single part of the preceding story is 100% true. I really did forget that I had a girlfriend in sixth grade and Annie really did kiss a boy today (four times) in front of about 12 amazed onlookers.

1 Comments:

Blogger GiGi Liz said...

This is proof positive that a move to the north is imperative! Cat fight on Thursday? Kissing a boy on Friday? These are surely values that have been learned from living in a state that feels none of the rules apply to them! Jambalaya be damed, tuna casserole is waiting!

April 6, 2008 at 10:29 AM  

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