Those Damn Hormones

So, ya'll know that Bug is in 6th grade this year, right? Does anyone remember how last year started? Here, click this little spot here and refresh your memory. I'll wait.

Good, you're back.

So, yeah. Last year started like that. This year? Well, since it's been a couple of weeks, I guess I sort of thought that we were in the clear, ya know? (And yes, I still prefer experiencing parts of parenthood with my head firmly buried in the sparkly soft sand. Those of you who do not yet have children old enough to be interested in the opposite sex for any reason outside of target practice .... you'll get your turn. I'll hold the spot next to me for you, mm'kay?) Turns out, I was a bit too hopeful, a bit too soon.

Bug called me yesterday when he got home from school, like he does every afternoon. And, also like every afternoon, he was full of energy and excitement. Obviously, I'm going to have to have a talk with this boy about what he should and should not be getting excited about.

Bug: So, I know I promised you I would talk to a lot more girls, and I have. So guess what?
Me (struggling to recall ANY conversation where I might have wanted him to make a promise to talk to more girls.....): What? You have a girlfriend?
Bug: .......
Me (still not remembering how I could have possibly indicated that was what I wanted from him this school year): Seriously? You do??
Bug (rather inappropriately proudly, if you ask me): Yup. Only she doesn't want me to tell anyone else that she likes me.
Me (grasping at straws here.... I'm desperate): Dude, you don't want a girlfriend who doesn't want anyone to know she's your girlfriend.
Bug (still not quite understanding the trauma I'm going through on the other end of the phone, apparently): I know. That's what I'm going to tell her when I tell her she better not be embarrassed of me, cuz I'm not too embarrassed to tell MY friends I like HER.

At this point, I told him that was a good idea, and quickly changed the subject. There is never a good reason for your children to witness your floundering lost-ness. And I was definitely floundering.

For the record? This is not okay with me. Not at the deep, mama heart of me. It's not that I object to the general boyfriend/girlfriend thing that happens at this age. Not really. It's that I object to MY BABY having a girlfriend. Even if it is one no one can know about.

Oh... and SHHHH..... I guess I wasn't supposed to tell you, either.