Not long ago, I was pulling papers out of my daughter's backpack that she brought home from school. As I started to look at one piece of paper, she quickly grabbed it from me, crumpled it up and threw it away.
Of course, as soon as she left the room, I retrieved it from the trash can, smoothed it out and read what she was so intent on hiding: a note to someone in her class. More specifically, a boy in her class. Most specifically, Noah B.
The note read, "Dear Noah B., this is how you get to my house: (and had directions to our house as best she knew)" Fortunately, first graders are neither a) great with directions nor b) can they drive. So I figured this was a harmless little flirtation.
The note read, "Dear Noah B., this is how you get to my house: (and had directions to our house as best she knew)" Fortunately, first graders are neither a) great with directions nor b) can they drive. So I figured this was a harmless little flirtation.
A harmless little flirtation that we had kind of forgotten about until my daughter's class picture was sent home yesterday. She's a tall kid who would logically be in the back row of the photo. But instead, she is sitting up in the front next to guess who? NOAH B.
I shared this story with a friend and mentioned that I was going to look into a restraining order against Noah B.
She looked at me sympathetically then said slowly, "I don't know how to tell you this...but I don't think Noah B. is the problem."
No comments:
Post a Comment