Yesterday, I surprised Carys for lunch at her school. She had no idea I was coming and was very excited to see me.
And thus began the friend jockeying — who is going to sit at the table with Carys and her mom? All of her little buddies clamored for a seat. I remember doing that in elementary too — being so proud that my mom was there and wanting all of my bestest little buddies to be in on it, too.
Carys has a delightful little friend, K. She is a sweetheart.
And she also is my informant. Which makes me like her even more!
As the kids enthusiastically asked me questions and sampled the items on their little plastic blue trays, K told me something.
“Mrs. Carys’ mom, did you know that Carys & T* are getting married?”
In fact, I did know that. Carys came home a few days ago, all excited that T & she would be getting married.
Of course, I quickly put the kibosh on that. Good grief — my child has been infatuated with marriage and babies since she was old enough to speak.
We’ve had many long talks about how she’s too young too talk about it, she’s too young to think about it, she’s just too young. The talks always end with, “Okay, Mama” and she’s on her married merry little way.
Carys has a few little fellas that she has promised to marry already, and she breaks each of their little hearts when the next one comes along.
T, though, has been a common name I’ve heard since he was moved into her class in the Fall.
When K informed me of their “engagement”, I almost had to laugh. While it is funny, it’s also a bit upsetting. They are SIX years old. When I was six, you could find me playing with Barbies and meticulously washing off cooties if a boy had even looked in my direction that day.
But not Carys. Exact opposite, really.
So, while I had a captive audience at the lunch table yesterday, I gave a little speech about being too young for boyfriends and girlfriends and how they should just be friends until they turn 32. (Which is an age Carys tossed out, not me. But it worked for me, so hey….)
I was feeling quite satisfied with myself, knowing I had just led these wayward kindergartners down the right path. No more marriage talk. I fixed all that.
Until K announced, “And T likes to kiss Carys, too!”
Carys’ face turned bright red, so I knew it was true.
I started asking her questions — leading to the all important “WHERE did T kiss you?”
“On my forehead…”
I relaxed a little bit.
“And on my cheek. And on my hand…and…”
I just stopped her and asked point-blank – “WHEN did this happen?!?”
“A long time ago.” In Carys-speak, that could have been anytime between Halloween and circle time that morning.
I then turned my attention little man T, who was also blushing a bit.
I gently let him know that it was not okay to kiss Carys, or any other girl, at school….and I would have a talk with their teacher if I heard about it again.
He sheepishly said okay. And Carys agreed.
All the other wide-eyed kids at the table shook their little heads, looking quite like bobble head figurines.
Phew! Crisis averted!
Or so I thought.
I was telling my mom about the whole situation this morning, and Carys was listening intently.
When I dropped her off at school, she exclaimed, “OH! Mommy, I have to tell you something!”
I nodded and her little chin started trembling.
“T broke up with me yesterday.”
I almost laughed, but when I noticed how upset she genuinely was, I shifted.
I told her it wasn’t a sad thing because she and T were never actually going to get married. And they weren’t dating, so he could not have broken up with her.
Wrong thing to say – because I did forget they were engaged after all.
I probed for more details, and she offered this, “T said that he couldn’t be my boyfriend anymore because you said he couldn’t kiss me.”
Darn right. That’s a perfectly good reason in my book.
I told her I was sorry that she was upset but that she had no business kissing any boys, except daddy.
“And T already has another girlfriend, too.”
That statement made me crazy.
KINDERGARTEN, people! How do they even know what “break up” means? I’ll blame it on the media, and I currently forbid my daughters to watch anything but PBS.
We had a run in with a little kindergarten Casanova.
And my baby got her first little heart break.
Until, of course, she falls madly in love with another little boy in her class today before lunch time.
Good news is, we’re meeting K and her family for dinner, so I’ll get the scoop!
*Names abbreviated to protect the innocent little heart breaker.