What is it about the "L" word and the very young lately? Is it only the kids in my little bubble, or have you noticed it, too? Cupid seems to be working overtime lately--and it's getting a little deep in here.
Just this morning, I was asking Ben about his girlfriend, Kaitlyn. Only they're not allowed to be boyfriend and girlfriend, so they're just very best friends. They are, too. Little BFFs. Thick as thieves. She's precious, and smart, and has such great taste in boys...and if he grows up to marry this girl, let the record show that I approve. But not yet. He's four, after all....
So, I asked him, "How's Katie?"
"I'm not going to talk to you about this today, Mommy."
"Why not, Buddy? I won't make the kissy noises this time. I promise. I just want to know! Are you still best friends? Did you read the science book together, or make crafts for each other again? You didn't try to hold her hand, did you?"
I wish I could show you this next part, because he gave me the sweetest, most wistful smile, and sighed, "Mommy, why do boys like girls so much?"
Uh-oh.
"What do you mean? What exactly do you like about her. She's funny, right? And nice? You're so blessed to have such a great friend."
And he says, "Yeah, she is. But do you think it's her soft hair? Because it's so brown like yours? Or maybe it's because girls have such soft lips."
No kidding. I about had a heart attack, and am still wondering if I should have paid better attention to this month's preschool curriculum--particularly the science and health section.
What?? Soft lips??
He assured me that I am his only real girlfriend, and that I'm still the prettiest...but for a few minutes, I caught a glimpse of things to come. I'm not sure I like it.
It would have been a lot cuter if we weren't finishing up the poetry unit in my classroom, and HALF the 4th and 5th graders wrote love poetry. Love poetry. Seriously?
Did you have boyfriends and girlfriends in 5th grade??? My first boyfriend wasn't until 7th grade, and when he told my friends he was going to try to hold my hand, I broke up with him. It lasted fewer than 48 hours. And I was TWELVE.
Anyway, here's how several of our poetry conferences went last week:
Me (working one on one with a little boyfriend wannabe): OK, I see your similes. Love is like a rose. Why? Love is like a roller coaster. Why? Help me to understand your comparisons.
Student: Love is like a rose, because it's soft and velvety and looks so fragile, but is built to stand up to the trials and the storms of life.
Me: What?? Do you write for Hallmark? What else do you have?
Student: Love is like a roller coaster, because even though it twists and turns and surprises you constantly, it's always worth the ride.
OH! I just thought of another one! Love is like a sky scraper.
Me: Hmmm....I don't get that one. Help me out.
Student: Because you build a strong foundation of friendship that will hold story upon story of life that builds over the years.
That one kind of blew me away, until my little cynic with the tender heart piped up. This kid never fails to make me laugh until the tears flow:
Cynic: Yeah, then one day you put what you think is the final block upon the strong sky scraper, and the whole thing comes crashing down. You never even saw the fault line at the bottom, because you were working on the stupid stories at the top.
Me, to the cynic, teasing: Do you think all love eventually crashes down? Or are you just bitter these days? Did you get dumped?
Cynic: Oh yeah, definitely ends. All of it. Love definitely has a beginning. And an ending.
Me: (beginning to enjoy this) How about this? Love is like lightning. Beautiful and majestic from a distance, but too powerful to be near for long, and just when your heart catches a whole new rhythm and you begin to think you've got it, and you like the tingly feeling all the way to the tips of your toes--BAM. You're scorched flat into the ground, never to rise again.
Cynic: Oh, yeah. That's it. Perfect simile that pretty much fits life, too, not just love.
Student in love: (laughing) Mrs. P, you're just tore up. That's just wrong.
Hmmm....I'm beginning to feel a little like I'm stuck in one of the plagues. Frogs would have been nothing compared to a dozen half-pint romantics, I'm sure.
Bah Humbug.
:-)
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