Smacksy Saturday Photo: Pals

So very, very.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Friends

Sweetest.

A Romantic

photo

"Mom? Why did Sabine have to go home?"

"Her mom said it was time for her to get ready for dinner."

"I don't like saying goodbye."

"You'll see her tomorrow at the park, Honey."

"I know, but I just love her, Mom."

Overheard Near the Jungle Gym

"Sabine? The Christmas brunch is ready."

"Oh good, Bob. We can open presents too."

"I love Christmas."

"Me too, Bob."

"And right after Christmas? Hanukkah!"

Overheard at the Park

"Mom? Did you see my picture? It's of me and Bob."

"That's great Mia. Is it for Bob?"

"No it's for mom."

"It's for me? That's so sweet."

"No, it's for the other mom, Bob's mom."

Overheard at the Play-date

"Bob? Thanks for having me over for a play-date. My dad told me to stop asking him all the time about coming over to your house."

"My mom said that to me too about play-dates!"

"Yeah. It takes planning from our parents and that means a phone call or maybe an email."

"I know."

"So yeah, he told me I have to be patient."

"Mia? You really have to just keep asking anyway. That's how it really happens."

To Be Clear

"So Mom? Am I your sweetheart?"

"Yes you are."

"You're my sweetheart too."

"Thanks, babe."

"And also daddy and Daisy and Violet and Pearl are my sweethearts."

"They're a lucky bunch."

"Are they your sweethearts too?"

"Yep."

"Mom? What about Mia? Is she your sweetheart?"

"I think Mia is your sweetheart."

"Yeah. You're right."

Smacksy Saturday Photo: A Privacy

"My room is going to be a privacy now. Only guys are allowed like dad and my guy friends and the only girls can be Mia and the cats and maybe the dog. You can knock mom, I'll come out, probably."

A Smell So Sweet

"No, Daddy! I don't need to wash my hair!"

"It's time Bob. We all have to wash our hair and it's been a few days for you so it's time."

"Not today!"

"You're going to see Mia tomorrow. I bet Mia likes guys with clean hair."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Mia probably doesn't like poo-smelling hair because she's a nice girl."

"Okay, that."

"You can wash it, Daddy. I will smell like grapefruits and clementines. For Mia."

"She's a lucky gal."

My Heart

Bob and his girlfriend Mia started a piano class last week. Toward the end of Tuesday's class, it was Mia's turn to sit at the teacher's piano. As she sat down she requested that Bob sit next to her on the piano bench. The instructor, Miss Marija, said no and that Mia would need to sit alone.

Bob stepped back and took his place in line next to the bench. As Mia started to play, Bob reached over and gently placed his hand on the small of her back. And kept it there.

He really did.

Secrets

1,000 words of Bob and Mia.

Modern Romance

Bob and Mia had a perfect playdate. Light saber fights and jumping on the bed. Sticker books and tricycle rides and everyone took a turn in the Yoda mask. There was an episode of Max and Ruby and a shared banana cut in pieces.

As playtime drew to a close, Mia put on her shoes and got ready to go. As Bob sat backwards on the couch talking to her, Mia reached out and in an instant Bob fell backwards slamming his head on the floor. As I recall from college, it's not really a party until someone is crying. Bob's wailing proved the rule.

Mia was horrified and fell into an epic shame spiral. Bob screamed. Mia's dad directed her to apologize. Mia yelled, "No! No! No! I don't want to be Bob's friend anymore!" Bob demanded to know why she hurt him "on purpose." I explained that it was an accident. He explained through gulping sobs that he would not forgive her. Ever. Mia and her dad and her baby brother managed to exit during the tumult. It was all quite Shakespearean.

Later that evening Bob announced at dinner that he had forgiven Mia and was ready to be friends again. A phone call was arranged.

"Hi Mia, I forgive you."

"I'm sorry Bob. I was just trying to kiss and hug you. I was trying to hug you all day."

"Okay. We can go to the park."

"Bob? Let's Skype*! Do you have Skype?"

"What?"

"Mia, we'll see Bob tomorrow morning at the park," said Mia's dad.

"Bye Bob!"

"Bye, Mia! Bye!"

And then guess which four year-old boy talked his father into downloading Skype?


*This is not an advertisement, merely a transcript.

The Other Woman

Bob took this holiday photo of his beloved all by himself.

You may recall Ava, Bob’s semi-requited love? Well move over gorgeous girl, you have some serious competition.

Mrs. V. and Mrs. T. are Bob’s pre-school teachers. He adores them both. Mrs. T. however enjoys the distinction of, on many occasions, being Bob's sole reason for attending school. Every school day there is the promise of an art project with Elmer’s Glue (Bob’s favorite substance), an exotic snack (anything made by someone else’s mom is exotic), and bracing three-wheeled rides around the bike yard, but the real magnetic pull into the three-day, three-year-old classroom is the sweet and delightful, Mrs. T.

On those mornings when Bob has alerted me to his decision that he will not be attending, (P.S. SO not his decision to make.) we will then inevitably engage in a conversation that goes something like this:

“Mama? I am staying home with you today. I am not going to do school.”

“I think Mrs. T. might be sad if you’re not there.”

“Will she be lonely for me?”

“It’s likely, yes.”

“She will be very, very sad?”

“Possibly.”

“Mrs. T. will do crying if I am not in school?”

“I don’t know. That would seem like an extreme reaction.”

“I don’t want her to do sad crying. I have to go!”

“That’s a good idea.”

Upon arrival at school, Bob will announce loudly, “I’m here Mrs T.! I’m here!”

She has no idea the day of tragedy that she has just so narrowly avoided.

A Fine Romance

This an istock photo representation of Miss Ava

Bob has a history with the ladies.

There was Bob’s sweet girlfriend from summer school who let her mother and I in on the secret that she and Bob are married and that they would be going to the movies very soon, without us. Bob was more than cool with it.

He was also quite enamored with our friend Ilene who Bob refers to as, “Miss Ilene, my tiny grapefruit.”

Then, Winnie’s mother from school, or as Bob calls her, Mrs. Winnie’s Mama. When she works in our co-op classroom, Bob wants to hold Mrs. Winnie’s Mama’s hand. The only time he has used the bathroom at school, he asked Mrs. Winnie's Mama for help. (That’s one lucky lady.)

And now (cue the harps) there is Ava. Ava is a beautiful older woman (almost 4) with a porcelain doll face and a head of Pre-Raphaelite curls. Bob first met Ava at the park where he came to quickly adore her and yet be simultaneously frightened of her, which everyone knows, is the standard recipe for romance.

Any person that Bob now sees with curly hair is pointed out as having, “Curly hair, like Ava’s.”

I usually flat iron my hair as I lack the patience and endurance to deal with my naturally wavy hair explosion. On a recent lazy day where I was wearing the waves, Bob asked, “Mama you have curly hair?”

“Sometimes,” I said.

“Well, Ava has curly hair all the time.”

On a recent playdate at the botanical gardens with Ava and her mother, Bob pulled me aside. “I love Ava, Mama.”

“That’s so nice Bob. Did you tell her?”

He whispered, “No. I couldn’t want to.”

Back home, Bob and I were hanging out on the bed with the dog. “Bob? Who’s my favorite dog?”

“Daisy!”

“That’s right! Who’s my favorite little man?”

“Bob!”

“Yes! Who do I love so much?”

“Bob!”

“Right again! Who is handsome and smart and wonderful?”

“Ava!”

He’s a goner.