It's Comin' Around Again

One of my grandma duties is to pick up grandkids from school.  When I’m quiet and just let the kids talk on the way home in the car, I can learn a lot about the day—like last Tuesday.  Rylan, our kindergartner, mentions to her sister Kinley, our pre-schooler, that she had fun playing chase with Ethan on the playground.  Rylan is in a class with 18 boys and 8 girls—odds are good that girls will be chased!

I mention the play ground antics to Carrie, my grown-up daughter, that evening, and she begins reminiscing about her kindergarten days in Miss Seidman’s class, remembering how Barry Barley, with his cute round cheeks and bowl-cut golden hair and Kevin White, with the olive skin and dark curly hair, used to chase her on the playground—always chasing, always wanting kisses.

Next morning, walking Rylan to the school grounds, she announces she’s not marrying Trevor ever.  Surprised by her own wit, she says, “Hey, Trevor and ever.  That rhymes, but I’m still not marrying Trevor, never ever.  Hey that rhymes too, but that doesn’t make any difference.”

So I ask her, “Why don’t you want to marry Trevor?”

 

She quickly informs me, “Because he’s annoying!”

“Why is he annoying, Ry?”

“Because he always bugs me and Ethan while we’re playing chase.” 

Grammy-curiosity just won’t let it rest, so I keep digging, “What does he do that bugs you?” 

“He tries to get kisses, lots of kisses.  That would be so annoying if I married him. (Uh, most of us wouldn’t be annoyed by lots of kisses—but I’m just fine with her reasoning for now.)

 “So who do you want to marry?” 

“I don't know yet, Grammy.  I’ll probably have to wait until the first grade and see.” 

Rylan gets to school, stands in the kindergarten line for all the kids with blue book bags (there are four kindergarten classes—each with their own distinct bags—reds, yellows, blues, and purples—each with twice as many boys as girls).  Rylan stands behind a tall boy with neatly combed blonde hair and a nice smile.  I quietly ask Rylan who Ethan is, and she points to the one in front of her.  I don’t find out who Trevor is, but that doesn't matter, because she's not going to marry him, never, ever.

While we are waiting for the bell to ring and Rylan’s teacher to escort the line to class, I have a sudden flashback to 2^nd grade, running to the safe base—the tetherball pole—and barely escaping from yucky Herman in his dark blue and yellow cub scout uniform and his annoying pronouncement that next recess he was going to catch me and kiss me.   Oh yes, Rylan, it’s comin’ around again.