I'm Not Ready For This

Build-A-Bear workshop is the destination after his basketball game last Saturday. I don't remember the last time I was in one, but it wasn't recent.

We walk in and are immediately pounced on by one of the workers. She tries to tell us about the current sale, but I wander away with the kid and leave his mother to listen to the sales pitch.

Shortly thereafter, another rep approaches us and asks what we are looking for.

"He's the one shopping," we say. He's looking for slippers for a bear.

She shows us the sleepwear section, which has some slippers. But we also encourage him to look around the store to see what else catches his eye. He makes a couple of laps, but there are so many choices, it's hard for him to figure out what he should choose.

Here's the salient fact, and I would be remiss if I didn't mention this now: The kid wasn't shopping for himself. The bear he was trying to buy footwear for was not his, but rather one of his best friends. 

Who has a crush on him.

And he admitted that he has a crush on her.

On one level, it's sweet. I mean, he's 10 years old. A fifth grader. It's the first real crush.

On another, it's terrifying.

Because while I consider myself semi-well versed in a lot of things, affairs of the heart and romantic entanglements while in school is an area I fall well short in.

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We all know that when you're the fat, bookish, nerdy kid, life in middle school has a tendency to be hell.

Mine wasn't hellish (thank God), but I didn't really have a crush in middle school. Well, at least at middle school. I did have a crush on one of the downstairs neighbors, but she started dating the guy across the hall instead.

And in high school, I spent the better part of four years pining for someone. But that's another blog post.

In college, I had my first girlfriend during the early part of freshman year...and that lasted three months. And that was it. Although I didn't have just one crush in college; I had lots. Many of them are still friends today, so there's that.

Suffice it to say, though, that this is uncharted waters for me. Sure, I've lent a sympathetic ear to lots of friends. I understand how to handle relationships for the most part.

But it feels different when it's your kid.

I'm not worried about teaching him how to be a good boyfriend/partner; I like to think that between modeling appropriate behavior and helping prevent toxic masculinity from seeping in, I can help him along.

I also can help him by telling him what not to do based on my own experiences.

We shall see.

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"This is the first time he's buying something for his crush," his mother said to the second employee that was helping us. He was wandering around the store in a bit of a daze at this point.

The woman smiled knowingly. "So it's kind of important."

"He needs to know that it's probably not going to matter what he picks out; what matters is that it comes from him," I said to his mother. She agreed.

He settled on a basic pair of brown slippers. They're designed to not fall off of the bear's feet. His girl friend's bear lost part of a pair of shoes during pajama day at the end of the fall semester. That's why he was seeking a pair of shoes/slippers for her bear; he wanted to replace what she lost.

He boxed them up when we got home. He made her a card and took it to school this morning.

I'll find out tonight when I pick him up. But I have a feeling he found the perfect gift.