Crushes


Last night, the dinner table conversation was about crushes. Since I have a preteen girl, the conversation does veer to romance and crushes from time to time. But only when daddy is traveling. Daddy, for some reason, doesn’t enjoy any talks of “boys” from his daughter. What’s up with that? It sure is coming!!!! He kind of gets grumpy, pretends he didn’t hear anything and says to me “We probably shouldn’t be encouraging her to talk about such things!” Encouraging her????? Does she need encouragement to talk about the crushes her friends have on boys! Yes, mind you its never her, it is always a friend or the other.

So last night at dinner, she started telling me “crush” stories of certain friends. I nonchalantly posed the vital question “What about you, girl? Do you have any crushes?” “Oh no! Nobody is cute enough for me to have a crush on!” That answer should have been reassuring to a mom, but…and that is a big but, because it was accompanied by a mysterious, shy smile. So I probed further. Nothing. When I was ready to let it go, the boy, who was intently focussed on his food, chimed in “Well, when I was 3, Sahana told me in my ears that she kissed a boy!” Ryan was 3 three years ago! I looked incredulously at my daughter, who was laughing uncontrollably, saying “I did NOT!” Of course, then this follows “Yes, you did!” “No, I didn’t!” “Did too!” “No, I DID NOT!” Till I say, “Quiet, both of you! Eat your food!”

Then the bomb drops “Mom, did you ever have crushes growing up?” I firmly believe in being honest, without going into minute details. So I said, “Yes, I had a few crushes. The boys didn’t know, I was too shy, but yeah!” The son looks up from his food, and that is huge, believe me. That kid never looks up when he is eating. The daughter says “Wow, I can’t believe YOU ever had crushes! Hahahahaha! So funny! I can see daddy having crushes and all, but you?????” Talk about being crushed. “Why can you see daddy having crushes and not me?” I asked, playing defensive. “Well, I don’t know, daddy just seems….” She doesn’t finish.

Ouch! Time to shed the matronly sweat pant sweat shirt attire and reach for that make up box, mama!

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