Did Casanova Have a Mom?

Way back when The Boy was in kindergarten (6 months ago), they used to have a little something called “Show & Share”. 

 

And once they’d both showed and shared their little treasure, each student picked a classmate to ask a question about said item.  Every week, my son picked “Madison” to ask him a question.

 

“Why do you always pick Madison?” I asked, all innocent-like.

 

The Boy gives me his best “duh?” look.

 

“Because she’s beautiful.”

 

I saw them hold hands once, when they thought no one was looking.  Madison’s mom told me The Boy has been picking flowers (albeit, dandelions) at recess, to give to Madison.  The Boy was displeased when they weren’t in the same classroom this year.  Madison cried over their separation.

 

This morning, Madison’s dad brought her to school.

 

We were waiting for the first bell, hanging out by the playground.  I can hear Madison, excitedly stage-whispering to her dad, “That’s HIM!  That’s The Boy!”

 

She brings her dad over, introduces them. 

 

My son gives him a shy “Hey”, and runs off to play, cheeks blazing crimson.

 

Madison’s dad stares after him, sizing up The Boy.

 

I wonder what’s going through his head. 

 

And I want to go over and tell him that my boy is too little to be any trouble, he’s pretty much a large baby, and he still cries when he falls down, and he still needs to run his fingers through my hair over and over at night while we’re reading a story (it’s a security kind of thing), and he still reaches for my hand when we cross the street, and he still asks me to help with the “paper-work” if there’s been a particularly messy shituation, and he can’t get the tongue of his shoes to sit right, good god, he can’t even tie a pair of shoes, he still needs velcro, and he was still planning on marrying me, up until a couple of months ago, and I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that he’s in The System, and he was just a newborn last week, I swear to god, there hasn’t been enough time for him to grow up enough to be anyone’s crush.

 

But I don’t do that.

 

I stand there, and I catch his eye, and we give each other a shrug, that says, “Kids?!?  What are you gonna do?” 

 

And we give each other a resigned grin/grimace that says we’re pretty much in the same boat.

 

And neither one of us is even close to having our sea-legs yet.