Cupid is Officially in Time Out!

I get one hour of blissful me time every Tuesday evening at what I affectionately call Death Yoga. That class is so hard, and walking out of there feels like the greatest physical accomplishment--like Olympic yoga and I won a medal! It's just about as relaxed as I get...that's not really saying much.

So last week, my yoga high and I get in the car to drive home when my phone starts pinging like crazy! Six text messages from the father of my children, who does not text me unless someone is dying or we aren't sure who's supposed to pick up whom when to shuttle them where. It's night time, so I'm thinking ER...

The first one is obviously a yearbook picture of a little girl--not one I recognize. Odd. The next one is video of my daughter with her very effective mom look and wagging her no-way-I-don't-think-so finger. I'm beginning to think I'm being punked or something. The next one is a marker drawing of two hearts with big smiles, eyes, hair, arms, and shoes. It says, "You are my boy frind." Still not really getting it. The last text is another picture, and I feel the nail go in the coffin:

"To: Nate
From: Mary Kate
I heart you!"

That's it! Death yoga high is gone. Some little first grader vixen has her little Hello Kitty nail polished nails dug into my baby. Game over. I texted back: Tell him he is grounded until he is 30!

I calmed down and put things in perspective on the way home. After all, what's the big deal...it's just a card, right? He's 7. It's not like they're picking out china patterns.

I walk into my son's room to ask him about this young lady...He has pinned the card to the bulletin board beside his bed and is sitting there staring at it. INTERVENTION!!!!!

I really wasn't sure what to do. Let it go? Find out what the hell is going on at recess? I'm totally torn. So I decide to wait until I put him to bed to have a rational discussion with my very rational son. He beat me to it.

"Mom, if an angel shoots you in the butt with an arrow, do you have to fall in love with them?"
(Wow, didn't see that one coming.) "Nope. Not true at all."

Pause in the story---about three days before when I was putting him to bed, my son asked me another odd question: "Mom, does Avery (his sister) have to be the mother of my children or can I get a different one?" Another odd question, but one I could answer: "No, it's against the law to marry your sister, so you'll have to find a different one. It takes a really long time--probably when you're 30 or so--and you should find one who gets along really well with her parents and absolutely adores her daddy." He said, "I want a nice one because I'm not putting up with a mean one!" Good plan.

So now the pieces are falling into place. Do I tell him he isn't allowed to have a girl friend? That could backfire like it did with Romeo and Juliet's dads. Half the town ended up dead! Do I blow it off? Also doesn't seem like the right thing to do. There's just something in my gut that tells me one should never trust a girl with two first names!

I figured it out today. When I went to pick him up, my son and the infamous girlfriend were sitting together at a table, side by side, cutting out snowflakes. OK, so maybe that's not so bad...but I'm totally keeping an eye on that one!