Kelsea Plays Matchmaker

One day I walked by and saw Kelsea playing with these little toys called “squeaks.” Squeaks are figurines of animals or other cute creatures. She matched them up in pairs, and had them kissing each other.

“Kelsea! Why are they all kissing?” I asked. She’s too young for stuff like this.

“Because they’re married!” she said.

“Yeah!” said Yuna, who was sitting right next to her. “You can do that to your wife when you get married!” she said to me.

“Thanks for the advice, Yuna.”

“You’re welcome!”

Kelsea has decided for herself that I need a girlfriend, and has made it her goal to find one for me. She examines the female staff looking for someone she thinks would be a good match for me.

You might expect a little kid to make outlandish matches, like trying to set me up with a 60 year old lunch lady or something, but actually she puts a lot of thought and consideration into it, and her matches, at the very least, are sensible.

I don’t know why, but when she does this she usually likes to write it as a note, then hand it to me, even if we’re standing right next to each other and it would be easier for her to just say it.

She handed me a note saying, “Do you like Miss So-and-so?”

“No,” I said.

“Whyyyyyyy? She’s tall.”

“What does that have anything to do with it? What makes you think I like tall girls?” I asked.

“So you can see her,” was her reply.

Oh. That’s very practical.

She took the paper back, wrote another name, then handed it again to me.

“No,” I said again.

“Whyyyyyyy…?” she asked.

“God will provide the right person at the right time. There’s no need to rush.”

“But you need a match!”

Before I started working with kids, I would have never expected 8 year olds to be on the look out for my personal well-being. But now nothing surprises me.

The next week Kelsea came over, handed me another note, then went back to her seat. I opened it, read it, gave it back to her, and said, “No, Kelsea. No.”

I went back to helping students with their homework. Out of the blue, one of the students (a girl we’ll call “Ashley M.”) came up to me and said, “You like Miss So-and-so!?”

Immediately I knew who was behind this.

“Kelsea! What are you doing?” She looked up. “Come here,” I said. “You are going to start so much trouble.”

As if I needed anyone’s help getting in trouble.

“You shouldn’t start rumors,” I told her. “That’s very bad.”

“But do you like her?” she asked.

“No.”

“Whyyyyyyy?” she asked.

“No why’s. If God wants me to have a girlfriend -”

“You would probably have one…” she said dejectedly, finishing my sentence.

“Good. You remember.” Not exactly what I said, but it was close enough. “You have to be patient.”

“But I want you to have a girlfriend now…” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“So then she can work here.”

Aw. I gotta admit, that’s pretty cute.

“Look, Kelsea….there are plenty of other girls who work here who take care of you. You have to be patient.”

I think it’s funny how I’m telling her she has to be patient for me to get a girlfriend.

“But you need a match…” she said.

“No, I don’t.”

“But how are you going to have kids?”

“I’ll adopt.” *

[* In all seriousness though, I wouldn’t adopt a kid unless I was married. Having a dad just isn’t enough. Kids need moms too.]

“But don’t you think Miss So-and-so is pretty?” she asked.

“I think Miss So-and-so has a boyfriend, Kelsea.”

She seemed so disappointed. I felt kind of bad.

“Thanks for your effort, Keslea. But there’s no need to rush. If God wants me to have a girlfriend he would provide the right person at the right time. He has everything under control. Just wait for God, and everything will be fine.”

Kids.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s