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Writing > Users > Aimster du Clarkentine > 2008

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by Aimster du Clarkentine on February 11, 2008
"So this is stretching the prompt a bit as it's about kindergarteners and it's a true story, but I had already written it and wanted to share."

Be mine?

I love watching my kindergarten Sunday school class. Each week I walk out of the class-room with something new to smile about. Yesterday, I left smiling bitter-sweetly. I had witnessed the unfolding of a mini-drama that made me realize that some things don't really change no matter what age you are.

Out of the small group of kids, he was the only little boy. While seven other frilly-dress and Mary Jane-wearing five-year olds were coloring pretty pictures of purple ponies, he was intently building a foam-block tower as high as his head. The uppermost level wobbled precariously and eventually collapsed, but he just wrinkled his brow and picked up the pieces to try again. The smallest little girl with a Mary Engelbriet haircut (think a triangle-bangs bob), thick glasses, and a patch over one eye waltzed up to Bob the Builder and asked,

"Ca'I help you, mmh?"

(No response.)

She watched him work for a while, then walked away, quiet and head held low.
(This goes on each week, the little boy ignoring the little girl's friendly questions and chatter, except for the occasional blunt answer.) A few minutes later, she approached him again, smiling shyly and leaning from one foot to another. From behind her back she produced what she had carefully created with a piece of paper, blueberry scented marker, and scissors. Sticking the lopsided, blue heart into his face she said,

"Here. I made this for you."

His eyes widened...probably trying to focus on the object so close to his face. He reluctantly took it, tried unsuccessfully to shove it into his pocket, and when she headed, beaming, back to the table, let it flutter to the floor as he turned his attention once again to his teetering tower. After another few minutes, she was back, observing him. Finding her paper heart on the floor, she figured he dropped it by mistake, and once again stuck it in his face.

"Here! Smell it!" she prompted.

"Mmm..." he sniffed.

"Blueberry. Here you go." she said, waving it in his face.

"Um...I don't really want it," he blurted out.

She momentarily paused and her smile wilted. Then, looking at her feet, she did an about-face and headed back to the table, blue paper heart drooping at the end of a limp arm.

As I watched, my heart went out to her. Her favorite color was pink, but she colored with blue, because that was his favorite color. She was so thoughtful and sweet, and just wanted him to like it...and though I don't think her cognition would expand that thought to liking her...it was obvious she had a crush on him and just wanted him to be her friend. While I didn't blame the little boy, (what would he do with a paper heart? It wasn't useful for anything.) I did think he could have been more suave. But, really...little kids, and little boys in particular, don't always have the E-Q some of us would hope for them to have. I am comforted, though, that at least for now, the little girl is over the rejection by the time the next Sunday rolls around.

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