2 buck chuck and formative experiences

Just when I was at my lowest, there was a knock on the door. Had he come back to apologize? "Who is it?" I called out the open balcony door. Kirsten, Peregrine's mom, asking if I knew where our children were. "I thought they were out back in the yard. She hadn't looked. I wiped away the angry tears, I snuffled up the remaining mocos... "Are you ok?" "Yeah, man, these allergies are killing me," I lie. "I haven't even looked out back... do you want to come over for some wine?" "Sure, I'll bring a bottle." "I have some."

So I close the computer, come down, out the back door, where the children are trapping frogs and giggling. I cross the courtyard. "I have a bottle, if you don't mind two-buck chuck." "Sure," I laugh, "Charles Shaw... good stuff." It purported to be a Shiraz, it was potable, it made me feel better to talk to a real person. We ended up on the topic of our children and their sexual discoveries (she had caught Pepe in bed with one of the neighbor girls and they were suspiciously quiet). Jeez, I hadn't thought about that, but this is the age, I mean the age that they start exploring. I suddenly wonder what my baby has been doing or with whom. She and I share our initiation stories, I'll just share mine, since it's mine to share: When I was about five I recall having two special friends. One male, one female: Chrissy and Daniel. We three had been classmates for most of preschool, and Daniel and I spent the next several years visiting and sleeping over at one another's houses after Sunday school, and Chrissy and I played soccer together for years. I don't think we ever talked about these visits when we were older, perhaps I was the only one to remember? In our classroom there was a ladder leading up to a little enclosed loft. It was a dark little corner, and we all learn at a young age that dark little corners are good places for illicit and illegitimate activities. This was how the game worked: We would all sit in a triangular formation with our legs split, also triangularly, we would pull down our pants. At first we just looked, but it soon moved to taking turns touching one another, in a circle, nothing mutual, individual turns. I vaguely recall my mother discovering our activity when I got a urinary tract infection, it all comes out in the wash (I have always had a hard time lying about anything). After that, we didn't stop, the rules just changed. I could touch, but they could just look at me. Funny. (Don't laugh, maybe we are made the way we are and we can't do anything about it, or maybe our early experiences make us who we are?)

Then later we were discussing that Quinn, one of I.'s classmates, is perdidamente enamorado... he swoons when she passes. (Incidentally they are the only two that don't nap, and are left to their own devices for naptime entertainment. She says, "He keeps saying, 'I'm his girlfriend, I'm his girlfriend!' but I don't want to be his girlfriend." Smart girl. "That's ok, sweetie, you don't have to be a girlfriend if you don't want to." She then goes on, "I think it is because I wear pretty clothing." "Um, could be..." "Or maybe it is my eyes, I have shiny brown eyes." "Yes, you do..." Dear god, it has already started. "Do you maybe like him a little," I venture. "No. Well, I like him, I just don't want to be his girlfriend." Subject dropped. But five minutes later, "Hey Mommy, Quinn said that I have to ask my mommy if we can have a play-date..." "I think that it would be ok, baby." "Oh, good."

On a related note, I. has a completely healthy view of human nudity, and has been exploring and honing her ideas on the subject. A few weeks ago, at the lake with Caleb, they swam in clothing and after I had her change out by the car. Caleb was feeling uncomfortable, and I. offered comfort, "It's ok to be naked, it doesn't matter. I won't laugh, I never laugh at anyone, not even at Mommy!" (thanks! doing wonders for my ego, she is). Then as she posed in the mirror in Florida (when does the change happen? I wonder. Believe it or not, I have spent the last fifteen years avoiding my own reflection - part of the reason I hate large department stores, beyond the conspicuous consumption- is that they have a heavy mirror population.) she asked if it was ok to go out in public naked. And I explained that in our society it wasn't socially acceptable to do so. She replied, "Oh, right, unless you are being sexy with a boy." Clearly Hollywood is taking its toll on my child. "Mmm. actually, that is probably something you'd want to do in private." "Oh." Why don't they come with manuals???