THE END IS NEAR AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE OKAY EVER AGAIN.
So, you know, bear with me and stuff.
The first incident was actually pretty funny. We were walking into the gym, Plus One, T9, and I, as another family was leaving. It was one of the instructors and her two children who are roughly the same age as mine. T9 said hello to the boy with his typical verbal assault, HEY YOU! I KNOW YOU! HEY! HEY! The boy recoiled into his mother's thigh while Plus One zeroed in on the girl. The girl was a vision, to be sure. An adorable little thing with white-blonde hair and curls and a charming smile and GOD I CAN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.
He target locked the poor child in true Missed Connection form. It may have been in slow motion, even, with hair bouncing softly and eyelashes quivering. As she continued out behind her mother, his neck nearly twisted off.
"Mom! I know her! She's so preeeeeetttyyyyy." His voice began to get...you know...DREAM LIKE. That's when the trance-like chanting began and I lost all capacity to process the world around me.
"I'm in love...I'm in LOVE...I'm in LOOOOOVVEEEE...iminloveiminloveiminloveiminloveimin---"
And then, I shit you not, T9 slapped him across the goddamn face with a diappointed shake of the head. It was, perhaps, one of the most epic moments I've ever witnessed when it comes to my children and, for a moment, I thought I was on the set of Frasier. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, NILES! YOU CANNOT FALL FOR THE HELP!
T9 must watch Mythbusters after hours because the smack seemed to reattach his brother to the planet earth long enough for me to shuffle them into the Child Watch area and jump on the treadmill to sweat away my UTTER HEARTBREAK AND LOSS OF HOPE.
The second incident was less slapstick and more JUST RIP MY HEART OUT CHILD. The four of us, myself, my husband, and the boys, were at the park checking out the monkey bars. Plus One was feeling less than confident about dangling from such great heights by his hands, beefy as they are. He'd done it before, however, so we were trying to encourage him. It was futile, however, and he just became more frustrated.
Enter a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl with freckles.
Plus One rose slowly from his dejected perch on a nearby bench like a tractor beam was luring him slowly toward the feminine entity. She was already swinging from the bars and chatting sweetly to T9, who was taking this opportunity to show her his ninja dance moves. Kid wastes no opportunity.
After 15 minutes of assuring me and my husband that he would NEVER EVER try the monkey bars EVER AGAIN because they are just SO BORING and I HATE THEM, Plus One climbed the ladder and grasped on. His eyes never straying from the girl with freckles.
You know what happens next. He swung across those bars like a champ, eliciting a "good job!" from the girl of his dreams and a beaming, prideful smile that probably set off the Richter scale.
I can only take comfort in the fact that the girl looked kinda like his mother. And that Plus One still spends most of his time dreaming of Lego Star Wars.