As the 3rd grader tells it to me secretly, in his room, after school:
"So I finally did it Mom. At recess I told her that I had something I wanted to give her and asked her to hang around the classroom after school after everyone else left. She asked me what it was, and I told her it was a late Valentine's present, but that I couldn't bring it to the party because I didn't have a big present for everyone and that wouldn't have been fair to give her a big present and everyone else just a card, which is also why we should wait until after school when everyone is gone. She said 'ok'.
Well the problem after school was that those two troublemakers, Elliot and Aiden, had detention and had to stay in the classroom. Of all the people who could be around when was doing this, those two boneheads are the ones I would want LEAST OF ALL. But it turned out ok because they were busy cleaning desks and talking about bloody snowboarding accidents, so they didn't even notice us.
I gave her the Shakespeare book--because I know how much she loves Shakespeare--but I told her to read the card at home. And when she saw the book she blushed. She blushed a lot. That's a good thing, right? Then she hugged me and said 'thank you very much'. Then we went outside. That's it."
---------
"So it was good?" I ask.
"Yeah. It was fine. Except I still don't know why she blushed so much. What does that mean, Mom, when a girl blushes like that."
"Ummm....it means she was really surprised by such a wonderful gift. I'm sure she loves it."
------------
The day after--you know, after she had read the card--she said "thank you so much" again.
They continue to play together at recess.
Life is good.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
A Declaration To Be Made Outside the Third Grade Classroom, By the Coat Hooks
Tonight after dinner, my 3rd grade son asked me to come down to his room to talk to him about something very important. After checking the hallway 4 times to make sure no one was spying on us, he closed his door and revealed the following:
He told me that Valentine's Day was coming up soon and that he needed me to take him to the store to buy something special for someone special. He told me how much money he had and asked if I thought it was enough for what he had in mind. I assured him we would be able to find something.
On the way to the book store, he talked non-stop about how nice this girl is. How pretty this girl is. How smart this girl is. How fun this girl is. How he has been spending time with her at recess. How he noticed a sticker of Shakespeare on one of her folders and asked her if she liked Shakespeare, to which she replied yes, because of which we were now going to the book store.
When we got there he asked a clerk where the "Shakespeare stuff" would be. First, we found a book of love poems. His eyes lit up in a way I'm not used to seeing in my 8 year old son. He looked closely at the book, then commented that he would hold onto it so no one else took it but that he still wanted to see the others before he decided for sure. He held the book against his chest.
Next, we found the classics collection. And then he spotted it. A leather bound, gold trimmed, complete works of Shakespeare. He asked me if "complete works" meant that it had all the love poems and all the plays in it--including "Romeo and Juliet". I told him that yes, indeed, the complete works would have all the poems and all the plays. He put down the poem book he'd been holding to his chest and picked up the beautiful complete works book. "This is it" he said, "this is the one I want to give her."
He then looked at the price tag. His face dropped for a moment. He knew he was short. WAY short. He looked up at me with his little angel face and said, "Mom. I know it's a lot, but will you cover the rest of what this book costs then just keep my allowance for however many weeks it takes for me to pay you back?"
Of course, I had already decided I would be covering the rest of the cost of this book long before he ever realized he'd need to ask that question.
I smiled and nodded and said something about vacuuming the stairs more often. He said he'd vacuum them every single day and clean anything else I wanted him to clean because getting this book was SOOOOO worth it.
When we got home, he went directly to the storage room to look for a gift bag for the book. I held one up as a suggestion. "No, mom," he said, "I want something pretty and fancy and not childish. Something like what YOU would want to get." After rejecting dozens of gift bags, he finally settled on a white one with lace on it. Quite fancy. Quite pretty. Quite grown up.
I watched him as he carefully put the book in the gift bag and surrounded it with white and blue tissue. "Who is this boy?" I wondered tenderly.
Then he asked me to come back to his room again. He showed me the card he'd been making for her. He told me that he had already spent hours on it, making it the most beautiful and perfect card he'd ever made before. The front had very intricate detailed designs in multiple colors and he had begun to do the same on the back.
"And on the inside, mom, on the inside of the card, that's where I'm going to tell her that I like her."
I almost started crying.
Instead, I asked him when he planned to give it to her. Was he going to do it at the Valentine's party at school? Did he want me to drive him to her house some afternoon?
He informed me that he had it all planned out. He would give it to her at school, in the hall, outside the classroom, by the coat hooks, when they were all alone. When it was just the two of them so that it would be a special moment. So that he could tell her that the card was ONLY FOR HER--she shouldn't even show it to her sister.
I pictured my little 3rd grade son declaring his love to this lucky little 3rd grade girl there in the hall by the coat hooks. Declaring his love with the complete works of Shakespeare; with his own artwork and the hours it took to create; with all the money he possessed; with the promise to vaccuum the stairs from this day forward.
Please little 3rd grade girl, don't break my son's heart.
He told me that Valentine's Day was coming up soon and that he needed me to take him to the store to buy something special for someone special. He told me how much money he had and asked if I thought it was enough for what he had in mind. I assured him we would be able to find something.
On the way to the book store, he talked non-stop about how nice this girl is. How pretty this girl is. How smart this girl is. How fun this girl is. How he has been spending time with her at recess. How he noticed a sticker of Shakespeare on one of her folders and asked her if she liked Shakespeare, to which she replied yes, because of which we were now going to the book store.
When we got there he asked a clerk where the "Shakespeare stuff" would be. First, we found a book of love poems. His eyes lit up in a way I'm not used to seeing in my 8 year old son. He looked closely at the book, then commented that he would hold onto it so no one else took it but that he still wanted to see the others before he decided for sure. He held the book against his chest.
Next, we found the classics collection. And then he spotted it. A leather bound, gold trimmed, complete works of Shakespeare. He asked me if "complete works" meant that it had all the love poems and all the plays in it--including "Romeo and Juliet". I told him that yes, indeed, the complete works would have all the poems and all the plays. He put down the poem book he'd been holding to his chest and picked up the beautiful complete works book. "This is it" he said, "this is the one I want to give her."
He then looked at the price tag. His face dropped for a moment. He knew he was short. WAY short. He looked up at me with his little angel face and said, "Mom. I know it's a lot, but will you cover the rest of what this book costs then just keep my allowance for however many weeks it takes for me to pay you back?"
Of course, I had already decided I would be covering the rest of the cost of this book long before he ever realized he'd need to ask that question.
I smiled and nodded and said something about vacuuming the stairs more often. He said he'd vacuum them every single day and clean anything else I wanted him to clean because getting this book was SOOOOO worth it.
When we got home, he went directly to the storage room to look for a gift bag for the book. I held one up as a suggestion. "No, mom," he said, "I want something pretty and fancy and not childish. Something like what YOU would want to get." After rejecting dozens of gift bags, he finally settled on a white one with lace on it. Quite fancy. Quite pretty. Quite grown up.
I watched him as he carefully put the book in the gift bag and surrounded it with white and blue tissue. "Who is this boy?" I wondered tenderly.
Then he asked me to come back to his room again. He showed me the card he'd been making for her. He told me that he had already spent hours on it, making it the most beautiful and perfect card he'd ever made before. The front had very intricate detailed designs in multiple colors and he had begun to do the same on the back.
"And on the inside, mom, on the inside of the card, that's where I'm going to tell her that I like her."
I almost started crying.
Instead, I asked him when he planned to give it to her. Was he going to do it at the Valentine's party at school? Did he want me to drive him to her house some afternoon?
He informed me that he had it all planned out. He would give it to her at school, in the hall, outside the classroom, by the coat hooks, when they were all alone. When it was just the two of them so that it would be a special moment. So that he could tell her that the card was ONLY FOR HER--she shouldn't even show it to her sister.
I pictured my little 3rd grade son declaring his love to this lucky little 3rd grade girl there in the hall by the coat hooks. Declaring his love with the complete works of Shakespeare; with his own artwork and the hours it took to create; with all the money he possessed; with the promise to vaccuum the stairs from this day forward.
Please little 3rd grade girl, don't break my son's heart.
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