Thursday 12 September, 2013 by Uncle Spike
The little man is having some problems of the female variety.
I know that later on my journey as a parent, I’m gonna have to face those inevitable awkward questions all parents face, you know the ones that involve the antics of a few birds and some bees.
Whilst it hasn’t quite got that far, and a good job too, considering our youngling is just 5½, but the conversations had between father and son seem to involve just two subjects these days; Star Wars and girls. So I guess there is no problem… he’s just a lad, AND a nerd, so what?
However, mister small-pants is in a dilemma. He has been made to sit next to three different girls within the three first days since starting school. Each has a name, but none that he can recall. Each is pretty, he’ll happily state that fact – but like Sheldon repeating his ordered list of favourite catwomen, he is finding it hard to place each girl in the right place on his list of ‘How Pretty They Are’.
And then there is Shakira.
Shakira is his benchmark of just how a pretty girl should be. Period.
Now, as much as this 116cm tall Romeo favours one particular female classmate over another; at this stage, none it would seem match up to the sheer perfection (in his eyes) that is Shakira.
You should hear him when we watched The Voice… “Oh daddy, I like Shakira’s hair tonight, don’t you?” (WTF?)
Yesterday, after I met him off the school bus at 1pm, we went to the park for an hour’s energy removal before going back home. He is on half day’s anyway this week, as school proper does not kick in till next week. Anyway, no bouncy soft rubber coated concrete for us, no no no, our park is just a collection of half rusted, bits missing assortment of playground and exercise park equipment. Situated under a patch of tall pines, the main attraction is that it is cool and shaded, so at least he doesn’t burn his little derrière on the hot metal as happens in other kids parks here in the summer heat. But the ground is a mix of forest dirt, pine needles and brown earth dust – and lots of it. After an hour or so there, he’s covered in it; a happy, but dirt covered kid. So back home, he gets unceremoniously sent upstairs for a bath. After 10 minutes I go up to see him. He is standing there, in the bath, naked, soapy foam everywhere, with a small red plastic telephone (part of his bath-time toy collection) held to his ear. He is chatting away…
“So, I was thinking. Would you like to go out on a date with me?”
( WHAT..??? Was I hearing this correctly? )
“Yes, maybe tomorrow, what do you think?”
( And so this went on, until… )
“Ok then, see you tomorrow Shakira”
( He then proceeded to make another couple of calls,
to a lad he goes to school with to discuss Star Wars figures,
and then to a girl he liked a lot from his last year’s class. )
“Sorry, but can’t see you tomorrow. I have a date.
Yes, yes, that’s right; it’s with Shakira.”
I guess as his dad, I had better keep a watch on this front for now. Later in life I fear he is going to be sorely disappointed at reality… or maybe not; maybe my wife and I will have a delightful blonde (and rich) addition to the family around the year 2033. But as much as he loves all his girls, few are blonde – not in southern Turkey, that is.
I do wonder what would happen if he was ever to meet a girl dressed up as Padmé or Princess Leia, or even to meet Shakira herself. I think he would instantaneously combust, or something. Bless him 😀