When I got Ian to school this morning, his teacher took me aside. I always hate it when she takes me aside, sensing that I'm about to hear about some discipline problem that my husband and I have been lax in attending to. But she prefaces her comment today by saying: "Don't worry, Mom, it's not bad."
Whew. OK, so what is it?
"So, Mom, I told Ian and Rebecca that they could not be boyfriend and girlfriend."
I think I need to sit down. "Do they even know what that is?" I ask.
"Yes, it seems they do. They told me they're going to get married and buy a house together."
"What?"
"Yes, and Rebecca is going to work and Ian is going to stay home with the kids."
I can't find a chair so I sit down on a plastic milk crate by the door of his classroom. It's not comfortable. "He's going to what?"
"Yes, well, that's what they said. And he also hit Maggie last week."
Hit Maggie? He's a stay-at-home-dad who beats up on other women? I am not liking this.
"Yes, he hit Maggie because Maggie was playing with Rebecca and he wanted Rebecca to himself." The teacher gives me this knowing smile as she looks at me. I'm trying to think how I can deflect. Should we be worried about Rebecca and Maggie having a thing for each other (not that there's anything wrong with that)?
"But Mom, don't worry" continues his teacher, "it always gets like this around Valentine's Day."
She couldn't have started with that? I would have felt like Ian was less of a deviant if I knew this was just a case of overactive pre-school hormones stirred up by a commercial holiday designed to sell even more candy than was sold at Halloween and Christmas.
Ian comes over to me to say goodbye and his little, deviant face looks up at me, his gray eyes wet from coming in out of the cold and his pink, plump lips smiling and showing off his chipped front tooth. I pat his blond hair down and lean over.
"Ian, you know it's not OK to hit, right?"
"Yes, Mom, I know," he says and throws his arms around my neck, squeezing me.
And in my head, I continue: And Ian, you know it's not OK to marry your 4-yr-old classmate and beat up on anyone who talks to her or to even THINK about buying a house with someone.... right?
But I just smile, and Ian bounds off to join Rebecca in the blocks area, probably to build a house. Who knows?
That's funny: when H decided he was going to marry Kristin B., the class staged a wedding. That was months ago and he still refers to her as "my wife."
ReplyDeleteAh young love. I clearly recall when my own son was four or five and got his first big money. Two dollars from an aunt for his birthday. I took him to the dollar store where he promptly purchased a necklace to give to his girl friend. (Two words--at least in my mind two words! Ha, ha!)
ReplyDeleteBy the way, thanks so much for adding me to your blogroll! I really enjoy your blog, Melissa, and have added you to mine as well. :o)
It doesn't get any better. Justin, at 13, had his first "real" girlfriend. It is fun to think about the future when they are 4 or 5 but alltogether terrifying when they are teens! Hang in there mom: )
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