It's the day before my birthday, so I decided to take lunch into E's school and dine with my favorite second graders. I am fortunate enough to be able to volunteer as a spelling helper with them on some Mondays, and they are an entertaining and friendly bunch. Today, I had the pleasure of sitting beside a little boy who was really working the charm. I'll call him "Aesop," because that is how Eliana originally introduced him to me when he joined the class just after the start of the school year. She explained that his name was like the guy who wrote the fables but that "he wasn't from Africa, just Florida." She may have inherited my hearing problem.
Aesop immediately staked his claim to my right and took great pride in showing off his lunch tray to me. He had pepperoni pizza, Cheez-its, and snack mix on his plate. I asked him where his fruit was, and he instantly vanished, explaining to the room monitor that he "had forgotten his fruit!" E looked at me quizzically, wondering where her classmate had gone, and I explained that he was off making a healthy choice. He returned moments later with a fruit cup and yet another bag of snack mix, which he offered to me. I politely declined.
He then confided that a girl he has a crush on likes him back. I agreed that this was exciting news, indeed, and when he pointed out the girl to me from across the room, I paid her a compliment, which delighted him. We returned to our meal, and then he told me that he actually likes three girls who like him back, and he noted that there were "girls all over him." I told him that he sounded like a real Romeo, which only confused him, as there is a child in the class named Romeo. Once he indicated Romeo, and I waved to our mutual friend, seated down the table, I explained that there is a famous play with a romantic character of that name. He nodded, but I think I lost him. He told me the names of the girls who reciprocated his appreciation, and I knew none of them. I said that that was really something, and joked that he should stay away from E, as she needs to focus on her spelling and is not ready for a relationship. Aesop looked concerned for a moment and then said, "Yes, and I would RELATE." I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a cackle. E then gestured to me to mutter from the side of her mouth, "I think it's too late; he already likes me." Her face was contorted with disgust, just as a mother would hope. Aesop didn't hear her, luckily, so we changed the subject to how pizza should be eaten. Aesop says pepperoni first.
Aesop disappeared from the table again after telling me a joke about a frog with car trouble (he had to be "toad"), this time to purchase a bottle of water. I imagine his three bags of salty snacks and cured meat were catching up with him. He was having difficulty opening the bottle, so I offered my assistance. He accepted my help but asked me "not to tell anyone" I had helped him, which struck me as odd. I hoped it wasn't budding chauvinism-- his wanting to hide that a woman had bested him at a task requiring strength. Admittedly, he also could have been asking me not to notice the fourth bag of chips that had suddenly materialized; who knows? I hope his mother checks his lunch money account every once in a while; this kid is on the road to Lipitor.
All in all, I had an amusing repast with the children, and I know now to look out for Aesop, the ladies' man. He never did eat that fruit cup. He just knew how to play. ...And so it begins...
