Confession -- First Grade Casanova...I'm Watching You.

Let me just say, the transition back to school after winter break has not gone as joyously as I had envisioned. 

We had three weeks of fun and festivities but I was ready to get back into a routine. I was actually looking forward to becoming a mega-diet-bitch again so that I can resume some progress on the road to "not-really-hot-mama-but-not-harmful-to-the-eyes-cast-upon-me."

And, it was my birthday week, so things were looking pretty darn good. 

It was actually a pretty darn good week. Just shy of the mark. 

First off, Lincoln fell off this brand new bike. 

As a protege of Evil Knievel, Linc tried using his "turbo boosters" to go full speed down a steep, curvy hill. I didn't actually see it happen because those turbo boosters are really powerful and he got way ahead of me on a walking trail. Next thing I know, I hear my dramatic daughter yelling "There's blood EVERYWHERE!" As I run toward the scene, I'm imagining every sort of Quentin Tarantino movie carnage and at least one limb five feet away from the rest of his body.

Luckily, it was not so gruesome. He had only scratched up his face enough to get looks of pity (for him) and suspicion (for me) from strangers passing by. And as fetching as a crooked Hitler mustache of blood looks on my three year old, I didn't exactly look forward to him going to school like that. 

So that happened with Linc. Oh, and now, all of a sudden, after loving school for half a year, he no longer wants to go to "that place." I blame the gratuitous vacation mommy-time, the new puppy and the stupid Kindle he got for Chanukah. Why would he ever want to leave his house?

But the worst part of my week started with a series of text messages from Iowa. 

Hi.

How are you?

What are you doing?

They were followed by the link for Textnow.com. I just assumed it was some new sort of spam so I ignored them. Then Maya came home from school and told me that her friend Vincent also had a Kindle and that apparently you can download some app to text people on it.

I half-listened to her because there have been lots of stories of the Vincent variety since kindergarten. He's a cute boy and a smart boy so, while I have never encouraged her, I realized she could do worse. After all, this was the girl who, in preschool, announced, "I like boys who have fast cars and are a little bit naughty." I know what I'm up against, people. The apple doesn't fall far from the Catholic schoolgirl tree.

 Then, the next day I found someone's digits written on a piece of paper in her backpack along with the words Textnow.com. 

Wait a minute....

"Maya?" I asked. "Did you give Vincent my phone number?"

"YES!" she screamed. "I told you. We want to text each other."

Oh no. As the mystery texts flashed back into my mind, I started getting new ones on my phone. 

Are you there?

Me: Who is this?

Is this Maya? This is Vincent.

I instruct Maya to text him back that he is sending messages to my phone. But the texts don't end.

What are you doing?
 
Are you home from Daisy's?

Are you playing on your Kindle?

How are you?

Do you want to have a picnic in the park or go to the movies this weekend?

SAY WHAT?!?!?!?

 I ask Maya what this 6 year old Don Juan is talking about and she just shrugs and says, "He really wants to hang out with me."

Am I crazy? Or does this sound like my baby girl is being asked out on an fucking date???

At. Six. Years. Old.

I told Larry about the exchange and he was none too pleased. But I reminded him, they were little kids that they were ...innocent?

Larry's having none of it. He thinks our daughter now has a lecherous stalker. Well, he may have the stalker part right.

I get texts multiple times a day from little Vincent. And, since Maya only replies around 5% of the time, I'm not quite sure this kid is so bright. He is essentially talking to himself. 

I told her there would be no movie playdates unless his mom called her mom. But he continues to send movie times for Monsters, Inc. and Rise of the Guardians. 

Oh, and he asked her to send her picture so he could show his friends.

This is not cool.

So what do I do? Larry has turned into an NRA advocate overnight. (Not really. Don't get your panties in a bunch.)

But I really don't know how to react to this. So far, I'm just trying to be a good listener that also reminds Maya of what is appropriate and not appropriate in first grade, boy-girl friendships. She says she gets it but, in the back of my mind, I'm wondering if I have anything at all valuable enough to sell in order to raise boarding school tuition. All-girls boarding school. On a secluded island. With no Kindles. 

So Happy Birthday to me. Not only am I now in my mid-thirties, I'm also one more year closer to becoming a grandmother. And not the good GILF-kind. Or, as Nene Leakes would say, a GLAMmother. 

I am so screwed. Let me go chew on a carrot and bark at Larry. 

Pray for me.