My Girlfriend.

This is old information, but I thought I'd write about it anyway (since I'm still waiting for the chair of the department to show up for our noon meeting; he is forty minutes late).

I go to Turner's school about two months ago. I get there and he and a little girl with blonde ringlets are sitting in little chairs facing the bulletin board. I walk in. He smells me it seems and whips his head around and comes running with arms wide like he does every single day (deep sigh...Please I hope he never stops greeting me this way). "I'm driving Mommy."
"Where are you driving?"
"I'm driving Ginger."
The blonde speaks "Turner?"
He gets back into his "car" and puts his hands on the make-believe steering wheel. He makes the driving noise. Ginger pulls something from her lap. It is a large, very pink, pretend cellular phone. She starts gabbing on it. She points at something invisible in the distance. "There Turner. There it is."
He whips the car in the direction she has pointed. He gets out. Waves to her while she gabs on her cell phone. "Bye." He grabs my hand. We walk out the door.

At the dinner table a month or so later. I ask about Turner's day and if he played with Ginger. Yes, of course he did.
"Why do you like Ginger so much?"
"She is my girlfriend."
"Oh really. What does that mean?"
No answer.
"Why is she your girlfriend?"
"Cuz I kiss her."
"You kiss her? Where?"
"On the mouth. All the time." (I corroborate this story with his teacher who says they are very affectionate but there isn't that much kissing, it doesn't happen on the mouth, it doesn't happen all the time.)
"Why do you kiss her?"
"I love her."
Well...I must live with that. FYI: Her parents seem wonderful, established people. Her mother is an opera singer in a PhD program at the University. Her dad is a creative photographer and a realtor (and one of those guys who talks too close to you). Ginger is very sweet and always happy to see Turner. What more could a mother ask for? He brings her happiness and she offers him the same.