Cameron and Quincy hopped into the car when I picked them up from pre-kindergarten today and at the same time thrust an envelope in my face. I noticed that they were official school envelopes and thought, uh-oh. What had they done now? I first imagined that it was a note from their teacher telling me how awful they were in class, but they usually aren’t absolutely horrible on the same day. They tag team, pro-wrestler style. My next thought was that it was a letter announcing that the school is closing next week for financial reasons and that I’d be forced to find another school or <gasp> keep them home with me full-time. Don’t laugh. It happened to one of my girlfriends recently.
Tentatively, I asked, “What’s in there?” Quincy smiled and said, “It’s a love letter mom!” My heart warmed immediately. “Oh, how sweet!” “Uh, no mom. It’s for my boyfriend.” Seriously?! They’re only four and a half and they are already showing signs of complete boy craziness. Yes, seriously. I have somehow raised four girls who are absolutely nuts about boys. And not just the normal giggly silliness. It’s the “I have no shame” kind. Or even the “I may end up being a celeb stalker” flavor of crazy.
Anyway, we get home and they do what they always do – strip down and get back into their jammies. Next thing I know, Cameron has thrown open the front door and I see her streaking across the circle drive in her kitty nightgown and red boots to the neighbor boy’s house to deliver her love letter. She is breathless when she returns a few minutes later and super proud that she has delivered her message of love to Jacob, the 16 year-old neighbor kid. I stupidly ask if she remembered to put her name on it. I start to see sadness on her little face as she realizes that she didn’t and that without that important piece, he won’t know who it is from. But she quickly recovers. She streaks back over to retrieve it, comes home to scrawl her name on the envelope and returns to slip it back into the mailbox.
Quincy’s letter is for Ben, the teenage son of one of my girlfriends and the one she modeled her piggy shirt for. I don’t know why, but she tore open her envelope to show me what she had written for him. I had to remind her to sign her name, too.
Here is what she told me it says:
“Ben is mine forever. Ben loves me. And after our date we have to get married. And after that we have to get a dog.”
She is getting ready for the date as I type this.
All kidding aside, this worries me just a bit. I don’t remember being this way as a little girl. I was definitely interested in boys but a) it didn’t rise to the level of craziness I see in my girls and b) I acted out most of my obsessions in my mind. I was way too shy and unsure of myself. Oh, wait. I take that back. I do seem to remember writing notes to Brian Gaddis on my desk in Algebra because I knew he sat there a few periods later. But that would have been when I was in high school and my girls are 10, 6 ,and 4 and 1/2.
Thought for the day: It’s so darn hard to raise girls these days.