There is no holiday I detest more then Valentine’s Day.

Recently, I’ve been reading a lot about acting positively and thought maybe it’s time to put some of that positive thinking into action. So rather then ranting and raving about the celebration that irks me to no end, it’s time to turn things around and embrace the season of love. To do that I shall open up and share some thoughts I have never shared before. For your enjoyment I give you a week of kisses.

A Week of Kisses

If you looked up clueless in the dictionary forty years ago you would have found my grade one picture for the definition.  I think the 2011 edition’s definition uses my picture from today-Brad

I must have been daydreaming in math again, because when everyone else, including you, had their problems solved I still had over half of mine unanswered. Our grade one teacher, Mrs Penny, once more kept me behind after school in order to finish my work. It always seemed I could do my arithmetic much easier in a deserted classroom.

You had not been part of my Kindergarten class but had transferred in partway through first grade. You smiled and laughed a lot and everyone said you were pretty.

I was just finishing the last of my math problems, trying to figure out what the total of a bundle of ten sticks added to a bundle of three sticks would be. Apparently the answer is 13, but you had already figured that out during class. Satisfied that my work was completed, Mrs Penney left the class as I was putting things away in my book bag.  As I headed for the door you and your friend walked in. You were involved in some sort of music practice and had come back to the classroom to get your things.

You stepped in front of me and smiled. I thought you were going to beat me up but instead you leaned over and planted your lips on my cheek and kissed me with a loud, wet, smooching noise. “You are my boyfriend now,” you informed me. Then you punched me hard in the arm and with a smile, turned and walked away.

“Okay,” was my only response and I headed home thinking that the redheaded girl who made homemade valentines for me all year long and the two girls that lived at the end of my street would all just have to learn to share me. It shouldn’t be that hard to keep four girlfriends happy.

Life was so simple at six years old, when I was clueless.

6 thoughts on “Thought 122: Tuesday’s Kiss: Clueless

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