My most handsome of sons is in the 2nd grade. He’s the kid with the big blonde hair. Hockey hair. Surfer hair. I fight with my mom to not get a haircut so I don’t get a haircut often enough hair.
He also likes the chicken wings.
He’s a good man.
There’s a girl in the 2nd grade that he’s been talking about for awhile. We’ll call her “A” to protect her young innocence. A is the girl that just happened to be wearing his football sweatshirt when I visited at lunch. “She just likes to wear it, Mom!” he told me.
This morning, while sitting in the van waiting on the bus, we had the following conversation:
“A asked me if I wanted to go out.”
“What does it mean to go out in the second grade?”
“I don’t know”
“What do you like about “A”?”
“She likes me. (yeah, that’s a good start I say to myself) And let’s admit it, she’s beautiful. She’s a bit dramatic. (Long Pause. Wait for it…) Just like you!”
WELL I NEVER! Okay that one time I may have had a bit of flair, but drama? Puh-lease.
Crap! This kid is wise beyond his years.