Nicole feels

It would seem our little Parker has a crush on a classmate. Macy. He asked for her phone number, and she gave it to him. When we ask him if she is cute, he says, "Stop it!" and tries to hide his smile by burying his face into whatever fabric is nearby.

I don't recall giving out my phone number when I was in the first grade, but I do remember Jeffrey. His last name escapes me, but no matter. I think I had a crush on him, or at the least he had a crush on me.

As most first grade romances go, it was a love/hate relationship. I can remember doing "we wear short-shorts" kicklines with the other girls (We wore shorts under our brown plaid Catholic school jumpers and buttercup yellow blouses with Peter Pan collars - can we say 70's, boys and girls?), and I am sure Jeffrey was part of the audience. I also recall that Scooby Doo was quite big and we often played our own version with Jeffrey as the monster chasing a posse of screaming, giggling girls about the playground.

Jeffrey wasn't always in my good graces, however. I distinctly remember spraying him quite completely with a mouthful of water at the fountain because he was annoying me, likely yanking on the finger curls my mother was fond of adorning my blonde head with.

I don't remember another episode in our torrid love affair, but my mom loves to retell of how I dumped my chocolate milk upon Jeffrey's shaggy head during lunch one day. Of course, my teacher had to call and report my antics, and I am sure I received an appropriate scolding.

But Mrs. Denise made sure my mother knew one thing: "He deserved it, he wouldn't leave her alone, and between you and me, I'd have dumped my milk on his head too!"

I am sure we were all back to short-short kicklines and mummy chases the next day: no harm, no foul. And I must have learned that it is not appropriate to dump your drink on someone's head because I don't recall even the temptation of such ever again.

Man, I wish I could recall the look on his face...