His Name is Nicholas.

The note had a picture of the two of them and their teacher under a big shiny sun and some grass all around. She wrote their names together, along with the teacher's name. I had to steal a glance at it as she stuffed it in the envelope as fast as she could.

I casually asked her about it today. Did she give him the note? Yes. But he didn't take it. She forgave him because sometimes, "Nicholas doesn't like to take notes when he doesn't know what it's for". She seemed relaxed and confident still, and continued on with the usual, "Nicholas is so cute. He sure was friendly today to everyone. He talks funny, says his s's funny." A man with a lisp? Perfect! That's my girl, go for the personality!

She's old enough to like a little boy, but still young enough to throw occasional tantrums, write her name on my closet door and suck her thumb. I guess she's been fighting all along for legitimacy and esteem. I see her grown up aspects and I match them up with the toddler still in her and just chuckle to myself. I never knew what perspective parents had!

Apparently they hold hands and he holds other girls' hands, too (Uh, wha??). I treat this matter very delicately as not to disturb our communication balance. I listen and "ooh" and "ahh". Jake mostly stuffs his fists into his pocket, listens to her intently, and pretends he doesn't want to charge into the school and give this little kid a once-over. We've got a long road ahead, lover. Pace yourself.