Well, it was bound to happen eventually. The day that every mother dreads in some shape form or fashion. When your little boys show signs of becoming big boys. Britt is only eight but it has started, ever so subtly.
He has been talking more and more about this little girl in his class. And if you know me you know that it didn't go without some questions and picking on him about his "girlfriend." Which promptly makes him turn ten shades of red and say something like "she's not my girlfriend" or "Moooommmm!"
Apparently, this little girl chases him at recess almost everyday. I asked what she does when she catches him. Thinking please don't say kiss, please don't say kiss. He shrugged and said she kicks me. Ah, the sure sign of second grade love.
During the Valentine's Day preparations this year, I took the opportunity to work her name into the conversation frequently. He would either blow it off or react as mentioned above. Usually, I followed it up with a comment about how it was okay to like girls and that one day he will be wishing that girls were chasing him.
Some of our little light hearted talks must have sunk in because the Friday that he came home with his Valentine's cards from school there were only two that he showed me. One was a really cool one from one of his best friends, and the other...you guessed it...from the little chasing, kicking girl in his class. He didn't even comment on it when he handed it to me. Just gave it to me with a shy little smile.
I looked at it to see if there was something special written on it, perhaps a little heart dotting the i in his name. Nope. Just your run of the mill Valentine's card. So, I decided to leave it alone. No joking with him about her that day. I just smiled and said that I liked it. He took it back, looked at it dreamily and said I do too. Hmmm, not a typical Britt reaction at all. Could it be? Does he really like this little girl?
Of course my mind sped ahead to the years of worrying about what he is doing and whom he is doing it with once he gets his license and some freedom. I looked at him in a whole different light. For a few frightening minutes he has hair on his chin, a deep voice and was so not blushing at the mention of a girls name.
Then I told myself: Stop! He is eight. Do not go there! Cross that bridge when it comes. For now just be happy that he is still being kicked when he is caught!
Those "OMG they're growing up" moments are killer! A few weeks ago, my son (he'll be 11 in late June) was getting out of our van. The sun lit his face just right and I realized there were traces of a mustache on each end of his upper lip. My stomach dropped, my heart jumped...I literally gasped a little bit.
Posted by: Joy (wingnut) | March 01, 2009 at 08:42 AM
No!! Not the cute little red-headed girl! Why can't it be Lucy pulling away the football?
Posted by: Donna Murphy | February 25, 2009 at 07:57 AM