Is there anything better than your first love? The feeling of holding hands and dreaming about getting married and Valentine's day chocolate hearts? Well, my first love did not start out well. It wasn't romantic, it was actually quite frustetating (a word my kindergaten through grade 3 boyfriend used, mistakenly). Let me take you back, way back to my first day of school.
As a clumsy girl, my Momma always worried about putting me in a dress. But this was the first day of school, surely she could trust me to stay clean for one day? Couldn't she? In my cream coloured dress with the brown polka dots, the high collar with the bows, the tight wrists with billowy sleeves, I was truly a Princess. I remember getting the knees of my cream leotards grass stained the first recess. I tripped (surprise) over my own feet while twirling, a commonly Melicious practise in skirts and dresses to this day.
The first day of school is rough. You are for the very first time alone, knowing no one, and I was in french immersion. I don't even speak the language in this lonely, foreign land. Sitting in alphabetical order, a system I have yet to learn, I haven't even learned the alphabet for crying out loud. I get seated next to HIM. Ewww a Boy. The closest girls are 2 desks away. I can't send out an SOS, and even if I did nobody here could read it! I am trapped on this island with these strangers who smell weird and I am not supposed to talk to strangers.
On our first day we are each given; a giant pencil, an eraser, 5 crayons and a pair of round nose scissors. HIM, the Ewww Boy is starring at me, spinning his new scissors around his fingers. He smiles, then pinches my billowed sleeve in his tiny kindergarten fingers and using his brand new scissors; cuts my Princess dress, the dress my Momma told me to be EXTRA careful with. "I am going to be in so much trouble!" I wail... Madam Coocarootza (I spell phonetically, because I can't spell it any other way) sensing trouble, swoops in. She collects me and takes me to the principal's office, the secretary comforts me in her arms as I am sobbing and begging for my Momma. I stay there until I feel better, which is way longer than it should have been.
When I get home that day; my Momma is waiting for me at the bus stop. Getting off the bus, I can feel a deep sense of dread overcome me. I promised to be good and keep this dress clean. She sees my grass-stained knees...Momma raises an eyebrow, I spill the beans. I mean, It's just beans everywhere! Beans and tears and apologies. I apologize the whole way home, a sobbing, sniffling wreck. Now, I am not this upset because my Momma is a mean lady or because she's actually mad, I am this sad because my Princess dress is ruined, and I didn't even have any fun doing it! HIM ruined it.
Walking through the front door, our home phone is ringing. It's HIM's mother. She heard from the school what had happened. Making an apologetic gesture; she offers to replace the cut dress. My Momma being the proud woman she is, gracefully refuses, explaining it's a simple repair. I can hear Him's mother through the phone. She's so very sorry, HIM has never done anything like this before; he must really like your daughter. It never crossed my Kindergaten mind that someone could ruin something I love because they liked me. The next day and everyday there after (until HIM moved far, far away) we were inseparable. Plus it was pretty neato to have my grade school boyfriend sit right next to me, even if it was a while before I could trust him with scissors.
This blog is brought to you by the letters L-O-V-and-E
As a clumsy girl, my Momma always worried about putting me in a dress. But this was the first day of school, surely she could trust me to stay clean for one day? Couldn't she? In my cream coloured dress with the brown polka dots, the high collar with the bows, the tight wrists with billowy sleeves, I was truly a Princess. I remember getting the knees of my cream leotards grass stained the first recess. I tripped (surprise) over my own feet while twirling, a commonly Melicious practise in skirts and dresses to this day.
The first day of school is rough. You are for the very first time alone, knowing no one, and I was in french immersion. I don't even speak the language in this lonely, foreign land. Sitting in alphabetical order, a system I have yet to learn, I haven't even learned the alphabet for crying out loud. I get seated next to HIM. Ewww a Boy. The closest girls are 2 desks away. I can't send out an SOS, and even if I did nobody here could read it! I am trapped on this island with these strangers who smell weird and I am not supposed to talk to strangers.
On our first day we are each given; a giant pencil, an eraser, 5 crayons and a pair of round nose scissors. HIM, the Ewww Boy is starring at me, spinning his new scissors around his fingers. He smiles, then pinches my billowed sleeve in his tiny kindergarten fingers and using his brand new scissors; cuts my Princess dress, the dress my Momma told me to be EXTRA careful with. "I am going to be in so much trouble!" I wail... Madam Coocarootza (I spell phonetically, because I can't spell it any other way) sensing trouble, swoops in. She collects me and takes me to the principal's office, the secretary comforts me in her arms as I am sobbing and begging for my Momma. I stay there until I feel better, which is way longer than it should have been.
When I get home that day; my Momma is waiting for me at the bus stop. Getting off the bus, I can feel a deep sense of dread overcome me. I promised to be good and keep this dress clean. She sees my grass-stained knees...Momma raises an eyebrow, I spill the beans. I mean, It's just beans everywhere! Beans and tears and apologies. I apologize the whole way home, a sobbing, sniffling wreck. Now, I am not this upset because my Momma is a mean lady or because she's actually mad, I am this sad because my Princess dress is ruined, and I didn't even have any fun doing it! HIM ruined it.
Walking through the front door, our home phone is ringing. It's HIM's mother. She heard from the school what had happened. Making an apologetic gesture; she offers to replace the cut dress. My Momma being the proud woman she is, gracefully refuses, explaining it's a simple repair. I can hear Him's mother through the phone. She's so very sorry, HIM has never done anything like this before; he must really like your daughter. It never crossed my Kindergaten mind that someone could ruin something I love because they liked me. The next day and everyday there after (until HIM moved far, far away) we were inseparable. Plus it was pretty neato to have my grade school boyfriend sit right next to me, even if it was a while before I could trust him with scissors.
This blog is brought to you by the letters L-O-V-and-E
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