Posted in children, Parenting, Relationships

When little girls like little boys….

Any parent of a daughter can relate to the protective feelings one has when the topic of boys enters a conversation. Whether we choose to accept it or not our little princesses grow up quickly and their attention to the opposite sex starts sooner than we wish to accept.

The moment this all started for me was when we attended the annual preschool disco, an event all the children looked forward too, My daughter once a clingy, shy little person who always needed her mum had grown to become quite the social butterfly and on arrival to the disco ditched me at the door and hit the dance floor. Me the proud parent observed quietly from the side line absorbing the joyful occasion watching my daughter bloom into a little girl no longer needing the protection and comfort of her mother.

person-human-child-girl

I noticed while on the side line, my daughter spinning her best dance moves, moves reserved for the most important of occasions and in this instance to try to get the attention of a particular little boy. I was quite taken back I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with this for at least 20 years, I wasn’t quite sure whether I was prepared to deal with it or even where to put myself or what to do. The little boy she was trying to impress would notice my daughter’s efforts for a brief moment then continue to race around the building shooting people with popcorn and hurl himself across the floor. While obnoxious, I could understand my daughter’s attraction to a little boy with a bad boy charm, a heart breaker in the making. However, I was quite relieved that this little boy couldn’t stay still long enough to notice my daughter liked him.

I then got a tap on the shoulder. My daughter’s teacher was grinning from ear to ear and guided my eyes to the corner of the room, she was pointing at a little boy dressed in his best clothes, an ironed shirt, comb over hair and gelled even for effect, holding a bright yellow daffodil. “Johnny has bought something special in for your daughter”.  I looked at the teacher blankly just for a short moment while I recovered from the trauma of my previous observation to then prepare myself for the next one. I thought to myself “WELL,…..well this is rather inappropriate you just go tell that kid to take himself and his compost right back to where they came from, no daughter of mine will be receiving ANYTHING he has to offer today or this life time thank you very much”, but I couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of this adorable little boy scanning the crowd for my daughter, as his dad stood by his side in support of his sons first emotional moment.

pexels-photo-172095

A sense of responsibility over whelmed me to not leave this kid with a life lasting psychological complex so I lugged myself into the crowd and herded my daughter from the dance floor. She was rather disgruntled to have her dancing interrupted after all she was behaving so well. I explained that little Johnny has something special for her and her attention in this moment was important. Johnny shuffled forward holding his daffodil in both hands in preparation to give it to my daughter but before he could my daughter froze and glared at him as if he was about to pass her a dog turd and ran off. I froze, I looked at the little boys dad, then little Johnny’s face, I was left there mid flower transition to pick up the pieces while my daughter had left me to follow the boy climbing the blasted curtains, of all the blinking kids she could have chosen.

I took a deep breath of exhaustion, worry, or maybe it was relief I’m still unsure but I thanked that little boy for his kind gesture and reassured him that my daughter appreciated his kind gift. I then gracefully and briskly reversed myself into a very dark corner and started searching the room for the clock to see whether it was wine time, I mean home time. #waitfordadsturn

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s