The Swing

MisterKidd and I have been together for a long time, by the world's standard. Although we've been married for less than 5 years, our journey started long before that, long before most people even know.

In the year two thousand, a bushy haired boy who was at least six inches shorter than me began walking with me on the way back from Gifted and Talented in the afternoons. I'm sure he was attracted by my ice green eyeshadow and the 12 butterfly clips I used to keep my bob in a ponytail. Who could resist?

I won't pretend to remember what we talked about. Probably Power Rangers and AR books and the like. He was the cool kid and the class clown, and he was largely considered to be the most eligible bachelor in the 4th grade (yes, you can be all of those things in a class of 40 kids). I was quiet and bookish with plenty of friends, but none of the male variety. Any boy who wasn't Leonardo DiCaprio was lame, that is until I was flashed a crooked smile by him. I was smitten.

After several of these walks, this boy began spending quite a bit of time with me on the playground. He invented a swing technique on my behalf called "the underdog." He stood in the back of the swings, pushing my friend and me back and forth, higher and higher until we were high enough that he could give one of us a good shove, running through the push and underneath us as we soared. It was pure bliss.

It was during one of these recess rituals that I received the greatest compliment to date. After performing several underdogs, this boy loudly and boldly proclaimed that I was much lighter than my friend, therefore easier to push. These words were music; never had I heard such sweet talk from a member of the opposite gender.

With this slightly backward comment, he had stolen my heart. His chivalrous manner of escorting me from GT and his commitment to me on the playground was enough for me to dedicate all of 5th grade to his happiness.