Stolen Kisses

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An old friend came into town last weekend, so Justin and I decided he needed to try the best ice cream around.  After lunch in Harvard Square and a game of frisbee  on Lexington Green, we headed out to Bedford Farm for some ice cream.  While we waited in line, Robbie sized up the kids who had already received their ice cream.  Within seconds, he was seated on a bench next to three little girls.

I looked over just in time to see a glint in Robbie’s eye as he leaned over and kissed the little girl sitting next to him on the arm.  Surprised, the only thing I could say was, “Robbie!  We don’t kiss girls we don’t know!”  The little girl shot off the bench, ran to her mom, and screeched, “Mom!  That boy kissed me!” in a voice as disgusted as she could manage.  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Eventually, I was able to lure Robbie away from his first kiss with the promise of an ice cream cone.  However, he encountered her again on our way back to the car.  She immediately ran closer to her mom, narrowed her eyes, pointed at Robbie, and yelled, “There’s that kissing boy, Mom!”

We exchanged names – hers is Shelby – because we wanted to make sure that we knew the name of our children’s’ first kisses.  While we did, Robbie tried to sneak over to kiss her one more time.  Shelby screamed and ran behind her mom.  And thus begins Robbie’s girl-crazy ways; every day since then he has asked me to take him to go see girls…

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