A Jen Too Many

When my sister Cannwin was about 13, she went through a stage where every word that came out of her mouth was laden with a kind of crooning, suggestive, accusation. Every action anyone around her took was immediately interpreted in the light of her newly found obsession with boys, and we were charged with romance every time we turned around.

I remember one event in particular. She was at my apartment, and the phone rang. "Ooooh!" she immediately said. "Jennifer got a ca-hall."

I wanted to throttle her.*

Youngest Girl Child seems to be following in her aunt's shoes, only in a wildly precocious manner since she's still in preschool. I got flowers a while back for our wedding anniversary - beautiful red roses that caught me completely off guard, which surprise made the gift all the more delightful.

The girls were fascinated as I unwrapped the flowers, trimmed the stems, and carefully arranged them in the red vase that had accompanied them.

"Mo-ommy," YGC said, in a tone that threw me right back to that long ago phone call. "I think Daddy lo-hoves you."

And you know what? Such is the power of a suggestive tone, that I actually had a quick impulse toward embarrassment. Then I caught myself, grinned, and said, "Yes, dear, I think he does."

"Are you in looove with him?" she asked, in the same tone.

"Yes, dear, I am."

"Are you going to ki-yiss him?"

I started laughing at that point, and assured her that I was most definitely going to kiss him.

And when he got home, I did.
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*I probably would have been less annoyed with her if it actually had been a romantic interest, but it was only my mother. I would have killed for a boyfriend at that point in my life.