Noni is in love.
It is true love.
She talks about him all of the time.
His name is August. His is 'beautiful' and he is 'her friend that is a special boy.'
Noni met August in Kindergarten. To her credit, he is a very hip and groovey young man. He is destined to be a rock star. Or a flight attendant. Or a lazy bum who mooches off of his mother for his entire life while he coaches mini-golf at the rec center.
He has shoulder length blonde hair and looks a lot like the boys in the Polo ads. And she loves him.
She came home from school the other day - oh, I feel like a traitor - and told me that she had a big secret. She told me that she had kissed August under the slide.
When I got over the suspicion that "under the slide" was a euphemism for something that it wasn't, I had myself a little sit down talk with my 5 year old daughter.
So. I said. You've been kissing boys on the play ground...?
Not just any boy, Mom. It was August.
Oh. I see. Where did you kiss him?
On the mouth.
No. Oh. No. Noni, I meant, where were you when you kissed him?
Oh, we were under the slide.
Under the slide. I see. Who's idea was this, this kissing ... thing?
I was pretty certain it was his. Boys can not be trusted, you know.
Note tssk and huffy.
We both like each other. We talked about it. We decided now would be a good time to kiss.
Oh God. I am in trouble.
Should I be happy that we are talking about his sort of thing? Yes, I probably should be happy that we have open lines of communication. But right now, I am not happy. I am mortified.
I am also concerned that yesterday Noni brought a note home from August's parents. Could they please have Noni's phone number? August would like to call her to invite her for a sleep over.