The Back-Seat Tell All

Pin It A conversation with Lawson on the way home from school Friday:

"So, Alia told me something today. She said, 'I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid you're going to faint.'"

"Hmm," I reply. "So what did you say?"

"I said, 'I won't faint. I'm a boy.' " His voice is deep with the importance of the facts he is conveying, and if you listened closely, edged with just the faintest hint of embarrassment, and yes...pride.

"Alright. So what did she tell you?"

"She said, 'Ooookaaaaay,' and leaned really close to me, and she told me she loves me."

I gasp, but there is Silence from the back seat. Finally, I ask, "so what did you do?"

"Well, I didn't faint, but my eyes got really big, like this--" he demonstrates in the rear-view. "And then I ran."

That's my boy.

My unwilling, unwitting, and utterly bewildered Casanova. He came home today and stood before me, backpack hanging from one arm. In a voice laden with accusation, he reported, "She said she wanted to kiss me today! Kiss me!"

I tried not to laugh. "Well, I hope you didn't let her?"

"I told her heck, no!" He let the backpack fall glumly to the floor. "And now I have three other girls after me. Four in all. Alia, Leah, Carson, and Savannah. Alia said she wants to marry me."

I would like to tell you that I had all sorts of sage motherly wisdom to offer my child, but I had nothing except giggles repressed with difficulty. "I think it's early days to be thinking about marriage," I told him. "How about a snack?"

He considered. "Yeah, okay."

"Keep your grades up. Don't let all those girls distract you."

"Yeah, okay."