So…it finally happened.
We were at the ball field when I heard a little girl squeal, “Ohmygod! There’s Tommy!”
It’s funny how my brain reacted to this. First, I thought, ‘Is she talking about my Tommy?’, and then, ‘Of course she is. He is pretty amazing.’ and that spiraled into, ‘I wonder what the hell her intentions are with my baby? That little skank better watch herself!’
She must have felt the pounding of my glare in the back of her head because she suddenly turned and locked eyes with me.
Her pony-tail was falling out at all sides and her glasses slanted crooked on her nose. She was cute enough, not nearly as skanky as I made her in my mind. Though she did have a smattering of freckles across her nose which, to poor Tommy, was like Kryptonite. She was as awkward as 9-year-old girls come, but I knew that would pass. Today, she was a gangly baby giraffe tripping around the ball field, but one day she could quite possibly be the girl who steals my son away.
She stayed and watched for a few minutes before scampering away, brainlessly giggling with her friends. Good riddance!
They lost the game, but Tommy got a double and nearly caught a fly ball. That’s pretty darn good for a boy who only just picked up a bat for the first time 2 months ago!
After his coach gave his “We didn’t lose, we learned” pep talk, Tommy bounced into the dugout, his excitement for the snacks overcoming his despair over the loss.
“Hey Tommy!” It was Little Giraffe. I watched her put her hand through the fence to give my little boy a high-five. A high-five that lasted just a little longer than a high-five should actually last. It reminded me of a time long ago when I was holding hands with a boy during prayer at church. When the pastor said ‘Amen’, the boy didn’t immediately let go of my hand. It made me blush, even though it only lasted a second or two. It’s one of my favorite moments when I think about young love. And to top it off, I married that boy.
Dear God, I had to stop that high-five!
By the time I got over there, it was over and she was already off again. My young son came running out, all excited over his red Gatorade and sunflower seeds.
“Great job, buddy!”
“Thanks! Check it out. Red Gatorade!”
“Yeah. So who was that girl?” I asked, oh-so-very smoothly.
“What gir…oh, you mean Julia?”
Julia the Giraffe, if that doesn’t just beat all!
“Do you know her from school?”
“Hmm? Yeah, she’s in my class. Mom, did you see me slide into home?”
And that was that.
I suppose this is how it’s going to be forever. A girl will be around at games or parties, walking past our house and eventually calling. I’ll ask about it and he’ll change the subject. There will be other baby giraffes, some does, some foxes. And I’ll worry about them until the bunnies start hopping around! And before I know it, I’ll come face to face with a hungry lioness and will have to give my blessing as she devours my baby. Man, whoever said having boys was easy?
Thanks for stopping by!