In the car, Adelaide said to me, "Mom, D___ is so in love with me."
"Oh really?" I replied. "How do you know?"
"He clings to me. Everywhere I go, there he is."
Unable to help myself, I proceeded to repeat a lecture I have given in the past about doing one's own work and allowing others to do their work (D___ is one of the students Adelaide "helps" aka bosses around while neglecting to get busy on her own work). So I will leave that part of the conversation out, as it is boring to me, even more boring to you, and apparently inaudible to my child.
The point of this post is this: a day or two after this little conversation, I spotted D___ rushing to meet Adelaide at the classroom door. He gave her an enormous smile, moved in as close as possible, puckered up his lips and leaned for a kiss . . . only to be thwarted by the fact that Adelaide is more than a full head taller than him. The poor little guy couldn't get anywhere near her face.
So, the solution to parental worries about boys going after their girls? Only let 'em date the really short ones.
Friday, February 26, 2010
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