This post has nothing to do with the fact that my air conditioner is running nonstop, or that I’m wearing flipflops to walk down the street to admire my neighbor’s Christmas lighting.
But what with what my blogging friends in the midwest are going through right now, just know that I ain’t gonna complain.
No, instead I’m referring to amore. First love. A time when a young man’s fancy turns to the lurings of the fairer sex. For my Jensen, that time was this week.
And he’s only two. Okay, two and a half.
Jensen is use to hanging out with his boy cousins. And as far as his older sisters are concerned, Emme is just another mother figure, and Cailey is the brother he’ll never have. But on Monday, a little girl waltzed through his front door, wearing a pink tutu, pink ballet slippers, pink tights, and her hair fashionably pulled back in a ponytail. With pink pom pom pony tail holders. Her name is Summer.
Now, Jensen knows Summer. He’s known her all his life. She stands up to his full height. And that’s saying something since he is a freak of nature, size-wise. And she’s about two months younger than he. But until Monday, he thought of her as nothing more than a nuisance. A rash in his proverbial diaper. Someone who would snatch his toys, just to get a rise out of him. He doesn’t share well.
But something changed on Monday. He caught sight of this vision in pink and stopped dead in his tracks. And just stared at her. Then came the wooing.
Wooing for young boys of 2 1/2, comes in the form of taking a running start and crashing into the wall in front of the young lady. Ad nauseum. Then when that failed to capture her attention, he began showing off his athletic prowess by turning somersaults for her.
She stepped over him to get to the older sister’s Barbie Mansion. He followed her into the family room, dragging his Blues Clues blanket behind, and sat very quietly playing with his cars. Stealing a glance every now and then.
Then the girls put on some ballet music to perform a recital. Jensen sat doe-eyed, for a good 15 minutes. I don’t think he’s ever sat quietly for 15 minutes straight in his life.
We all piled into the van to take Summer to her ballet class. Jensen sat beside her in his 5 point harness carseat. The one with the yogurt stains on the arms, and smelling suspiciously of petrified french fries.
She sat demurely in her pristine booster seat, supplied by her mother. Jensen is never a particularly good traveler. But he was on his best behavior. At least for the trip there. He kept Summer entertained by making his most funniest faces. The ones he saves for when he’s in a very jovial mood.
She laughed politely.
We dropped Summer off at her class. Much to Jensen’s dismay. The trip home was fraught with loud protests and crying.
I’d go ahead and just arrange the marriage, but alas, Summer is his first cousin.
And that’s frowned upon in this here neck of the woods.
But I certainly enjoyed the spectacle that he made of himself all Monday morning. A glimpse of days to come. And anytime I need him to be on his best behavior, I know I can just arrange for Summer to be there.
And you can bank on the fact that I will hold this over his head when he is a teenager.