Keep it in your pants, kid.

Kids are growing up so fast these days. Or maybe it's how fast they've always grown up, but I just never noticed because I was always one step behind. It just seems to me, from what I see in my little people, that boys and girls seem hyper-aware of each other's sexuality lately, even at the ages of 6 and 7.

Take this afternoon, for instance. After lunch, the kids who don't nap usually stay in the playing room and... play. Most days, I stay with them and try to keep at bay the madness that is inevitably bound to explode whenever more than a dozen children are gathered in a living room-sized space (at the end of free-play, the room really does look like a war zone, or as if KB Toys projectile vomited everywhere). The oldest group of kids --or Blue Group, as I often address them collectively-- has already been showing signs of that previously mentioned awareness (with Ju. taking off her top for the boys one day, Mel. and Jan. declaring their love for each other via colored pencils another day, etc etc). Today though, I was holding a sleepy baby in my arms when I saw G. and D. in a corner in a somewhat shocking pose. I won't be too specific, but there was straddling involved. G., the boy, was kissing the living daylights out of a giggling D., who was yelling "no, stop, no!" I was at a loss of what to do. Clearly she wasn't being hurt in any way, and she was enjoying the whole situation a great deal, but at the same time, this went against every scrap of feminism I had rattling around in me. Not to mention, hello, 6 years old.

Naturally, I tossed the baby aside, yelled at G. to get off, sat him down on a chair and lectured him about the meaning of "no." While I was yelling at G, who in reality is actually a really sweet though mischievous kid, D. was behind me, egging on Jan. and S. to kiss her. I whipped around, and saw D. being gang-kissed by three boys. "Jenny-mama!" She shouted happily through a tangle of arms and lips. "Look! I have three kissing machines!"***

What can I say. The girl knows what she wants, and how to get it. That, among other things, makes her my favorite.

***Quick side-note: D. is also a little homewrecker because moments later, Reb. was near tears, yelling at Jan. in rapid Hungarian, demanding from him an explanation for why D. is now His Girl Friday. Jan. turned to me in sheer exasperation: "I don't know what to do. I like Reb. but I ALSO like D.!"

Story of my life, kid. Ah. Young heartache.