So Violet has a boyfriend. They draw each other pictures, and sit next to each other at lunch.
Yes, yes. I know I haven’t written in a long la la looong time, and now I drop this bomb on you. I realize I should at least update you on the move, V starting kindergarten, the great house-hunt of ’09, the great house-remodel of ’09, the school wanting to move V to 1st grade (good thing we said no – I’d hate to stand in the way of young love like that), et freaking c. I know. But if I worried about all of that, I’d never start blogging again – it would be an insurmountable to-do list. It would weigh me down, and keep me from ever writing about the present. And the present? Is hysterical. The conversation around the dinner table tonight needed to be recorded now, while it was fresh in my mind. Prepare to be either horrified or amused, depending on whether you are Violet’s father or not.
Today when I went to pick Madam up from school, her teacher was out there with her to say hi. She leaned in and whispered that I should pay close attention to the artwork in V’s backpack today. “Romance is brewing in room four!” Hmmm.
While we walk home, I unzip the backpack and find this –
Sean? Who the heck is Sean, and why have I never heard the name before?
At dinner, I encourage Joe to look in the backpack. He comes out with the picture and reacts pretty much exactly as I’d hoped (“I love you SEAN? WHO the heck is SEAN?”) V looks at him, and says in all seriousness..
V: Sean. He’s in my class.
J: Yes, but who is he? Is he your friend?
V: Ehhhh…
J: Is he your… (gulp)… boyfriend?
V: That’s how it feels.
That’s how it feels, people. It feels like he’s her boyfriend. She goes on to explain that they like to draw pictures for each other, they try to sit near each other at lunch, and they “try to get as close together as we can on the rug.”
At that last bit, one of Joe’s eyeballs bulged ever-so-slightly in its socket.
J: But you promised! No boyfriends until you’re 35!
V: Daddy! I can’t control it! It’s just how I feel!
Me: She can’t control it, Daddy.
J: You shut it.
V: Besides! 35 is really, really old.
Me: That’s true. If I had waited until I was 35 to get a boyfriend, I’d still be waiting.
J: Stay out of this, please.
V: Exactly! How old were you when Daddy was your boyfriend?
Me: 19. (Oye, so long ago.)
V: Hmmm. Well how old were you when you had your FIRST boyfriend?
J: It doesn’t matter how old Mommy was! We had a deal!
Me: Um, do you mean like my first *real* boyfriend, like where he drove and picked me up and we went on dates and stuff? Or do you mean my first little-kid boyfriend where we sat next to each other and passed notes and were basically very good friends.
V: I mean your little-kid boyfriend. But more than friends. Were you connected? Like me and Sean?
J: (strangling) CONNECTED!
Me: Hmmm. It was long ago, hon. But I didn’t even have a little-kid boyfriend until…. 6th grade? Something like that.
V: Hm. Well, I’m just starting earlier than you, I guess. We love each other.
Joe: LOVE!
Me: Does he love you, too? Or do you just love him?
V: He loves me. He drew me a picture.
Rainbow, butterfly, flower.... blue sheep? If only I had a boyfriend romantic enough to draw me pretty pictures like this.
Me: Well. Huh. It must be real love, then.
J: [no longer capable of speech – vein on forehead pulsing like mad]
Me: Um, so when you say you like to be as close as possible…
V: Umhmmmmm…
J: something something HOMESCHOOL something something
Me: When do you mean, exactly? You mean at lunch? At the table during drawing time?
V: Yes. And on the rug.
J: Aggle flabble! Wumpy flappy!
Me: Yes. That. What rug? Do you mean at nap time?
V: No no no. I mean during story time. At rest time we have to lay in our assigned spots. Mine is next to Devon. I have no idea where Sean is.
J: [starts breathing again]
So that’s the news. Violet is in love. He loves her back. They can’t help the way they feel. They show their love through art, and sitting as “close as possible” to one another. The teacher approves (apparently, this Sean is quite a catch.) V says he’s “very handsome, and in the smart group in the class”, so that must be good. Joe will probably survive this. Maybe.
Not a baby anymore. Sniff.
Here comes trouble! 