My first love

I don't remember the first time I met you, but it's been told over and over again during parties that it feels like a real memory for me.

We were at daycare. I was three, you were four. We were both playing by the soft blocks. I was reading a pop-up book and you were building and crashing forts. Really soft stuff for a four-year old boy. LOL!

I don't know what occurred to you then, but you decided you wanted to read the book I was reading so you grabbed it from me. Instead of crying, I grabbed another book from the pile and hit you on the head with it. Clearly, I have a history of violence. LOL.

You were too dumbstruck to hit me back, or that's what the adults said. Or I must have hit you really hard, because you're eyes watered and your lower lip trembled.

The adults like saying that I felt guilty.  Hmm...I probably just didn't want to get in trouble. At an early age, I had an instinct for self-preservation. I dropped the book I hit you with and patted your arm. I pulled out the minnie mouse candy coated cookie I'd been saving from my pocket and offered it to you. You gave me the book and grabbed the cookie.

I sat down and went back to reading the book. You sat beside me, broke the cookie in half and gave me one-half. We read the book together and shared the cookie.