Skirts and Scaffolding

 

When my daughter was in preschool, she came home one day looking very smug and superior.  “Did you know,” she said, “That Luca doesn’t know what scaffolding is?”

That marked the beginning of the end of Luca.

Immersed in all things having to do with construction since she could carry tools and hand them to her father, her favorite Christmas gift one year was a push-along tractor and her favorite TV show was Bob the Builder. She’d willingly go to the house construction site and chat up the few workers that showed up to do things that we just absolutely could not do ourselves (like drive a cement truck to pour the foundation). So, her knowing more about things like scaffolding than poor Luca didn’t surprise me.

Showing that she was a modern women – one that can build a house and rock a pink tutu - she remained a very girly-girl, unwilling to leave the house without a dress on until she hit first grade. And most of her favorite toys were more in the Barbie realm that the tractors. One Christmas, while visiting her grandparents, she found a very old wooden doll that belonged to her grandmother. The entire trip, that doll did not leave her sight, and rarely her arms. She slept with it, ate with it, held it during story time, and ended up bringing it home with her because it would be cruel to rip a baby from her new mother’s arms.

Despite his shortcomings in construction lingo, Luca remained her favorite boy at preschool and she invited him to her fifth birthday party. One other boy got invited to keep Luca company and all the kids had great fun at the gym where they jumped and swung and bounced to their hearts’ content. When it came time to open presents, she eagerly reached for the one Luca brought.

Luca’s eyes shone with anticipation almost as bright as hers. His mother confided in me that he’d picked out the present himself. The birthday girl ripped off the paper and pulled out a matchbox car. Luca grinned and told her the name of the car. Her eyes scrunched up like a skeptic and she reached into the package again. One by one, she pulled out five matchbox cars, all Luca’s favorites. 

“Five cars, since you are five,” he said.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she reached for another package.

Luca didn’t notice her lack of enthusiasm. He’d done what so many guys do – picked out a gift he would love to get himself. And now couldn’t imaging that it would be met with anything other than utter happiness and awe.  I couldn’t really blame him for this particular gift, though. I mean she did go to preschool and talk about scaffolding. Cars didn’t seem that far off. And, he’d obviously put some thought into it, which couldn’t be said for the other kids who just brought what their mother picked out.

Later, I saw him playing with the other boy with the cars, while the girls all talked to each other on matching pink fuzzy phones that were all the rage that year.  I thought about saving one of the phones and wrapping it up for Luca’s birthday, but figured his parents really wouldn’t appreciate that.

On the way home – thankfully she waited to get into the car – the birthday princess huffed, “Why did he give me cars?” 

“Because he likes them.”

“But it’s my birthday!”

Oh, how to explain the world of guys? Where even to begin? At least I thought I had a long time. And to some, preschool to fifth grade might seem a long time, but for a mother it is a blink of an eye.

The boys now already way scarier (for me) than innocent little Luca. The more grown-up princess came home the other day with a golden bracelet around her arm.

 “Where did you get that?” I asked.

“Jake,” she mumbled.

“Jake? Why did Jake give you that?”

“Because he likes me.” 

Dammit. If only Jake had stuck with the matchbox cars.