Vincenzo has been bringing art home from school every day lately.
No, no, no; it’s not his own. It is all done by the four-year-old girl who is crushing on him. Let’s call the girl Her Majesty (her parents’ moniker, not ours). I thought the art was all very sweet until Kevin saw the following picture:
He took one glance and said, “Oh, look at that painting of Her Majesty and Vincenzo making love beneath a rainbow.”
Up until recently, Her Majesty had a bad case of Bieber Fever. She told her parents she loved him. Then she suddenly switched over to Vincenzo, clarifying that she loves Justin Bieber’s music, but she loves Vincenzo’s Vincenzo.
It wasn’t all that big a jump to make.
They are similar in both hairstyle and age; Bieber just happens to also own a comb.
So one day I was getting the boys’ hair cut downtown. I was in the front of the shop with Rocco and Vincenzo was in the back. Her Majesty came waltzing into the store with all the confidence of a woman in love and headed straight back to V where she suddenly turned so shy she could barely say “hi.” Her Majesty mom had been getting her hair done in the chair next to V and telling the hairdresser all about B’s preschool crush when she noticed V in the chair next to her, alerted Her Majesty (who was outside with her dad), and let fate finish this thing it had started.
We took the kids to the beach next to the hairdresser’s to throw rocks, and that’s where I learned the extent of Her Majesty’s lovesickness. When she comes home from school and her parents ask what she did that day, the only thing she has to report on is what Vincenzo did or said or wore. That one day of school Vincenzo missed this year? That was the worst day of Her Majesty’s life to date. Last month she worried to her parents that Vincenzo doesn’t know he’s supposed to buy her a ring. She told her dad that on Friday when she said to Vincenzo she was going to marry him, he laughed and ran away.
“He’s a boy,” her dad explained. “Boys are clueless.”
I’ve always been told that, but I always thought that really the boys were flirting back with us and playing our game. Now that I am a mother of a boy, I understand what it feels like to be clueless. It’s a real thing, people.
So on Thursday I sent an e-mail to Her Majesty’s humble servants (i.e. parents) inviting their family to dinner on Saturday. They showed up right on time and her dad, with a chalkboard-on-nails look on his face, said, “It’s been a loooong three days.”
Dinner was fun and the young lovers played beautifully together, mostly in the bedroom, of course. We really love Her Majesty. She’s sweet, bubbly, cute, joyous, creative, and has wide birthing hips. Not to mention she has excellent taste in men.
So when Kevin explained to her parents at dinner that if they want to continue with this union, they’re going to have to pay us three goats, we were a little surprised when they just laughed.
I’m not sure how much clearer we need to be.
WHAT’S COOKIN‘ 2NITE:
Store bought sushi