Thank Goodness I Have Only One Girl (or It’s Starting Already? She’s only Nine!)

May 17, 2006

Last night a boy called my daughter. Three times. Needless to say, her father made very pointed comments about being a pistol-packin’ member of the NRA. Actually he told her to tell the boy he was cleaning a loaded gun. When I observed that you aren’t supposed to clean a gun when it’s loaded, he said, “Exactly.” Ah, I caught the manic look. It was probably in my eye too.

And last week she brought this home:

We made her return the ring to the teacher, and the teacher even had a class meeting about the inappropriateness of sending love notes in third grade. ABC was mortified that I would embarrass her that way but I think it’s the parents’ job to be the heavy in this case.

I think she’s safe, though, because she and her brother spent about a half an hour mocking the bad spelling in the love note. No guys have a chance; you might be cute, but if you can’t spell? Fuggedaboudid.

In a sick way, I’m kinda happy. If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it. But it gratifies my ego (?) to think my daughter is cute enough to get phone calls. I’m sure I’ll be sick of them soon enough, but for now I’m a little glad that others agree with me that “every little thing she does is magic.” Except for forgetting to clean the litter box and never cleaning her room and throwing clean clothes in the wash.

Better now. The reality check helped.

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