Crushing. Crushing. Hard.

Dear Diary...

I met a boy and he lights up my dark and dreary world...

Just kidding. Well, not completely.

But sometimes I feel like I'm back at that diary writing age. You know when you couldn't look because he'll notice-but then you must over impress because he might be looking- the everything he does is magic phase-completely in love- stars in eyes-skipping instead of walking-can't step on a crack- punch and tease him because it's the closes you'll get to touching him - push some kid off the swing because he said he'll join you-save a place in line for him- share your fruit rollup hoping he'll get the hint- save a carpet rug or chair for story time and lunch/or cot for nap time, beside you for him.

Yes, it was all for him.

That was love as children.

And 8 times out of 10 those boys got the hint but were in a "Girls are gross so I can't publicly acknowledge you" stage.

Yet, he, and them, still ate all the attention up.

And, we were willing to supply it. Again and again.

Because we hoped...

I've been wondering if those days ever end.

I always imagined that once one reaches "adulthood" - that magical age where everything just clicks, the awkward days disappear, acne and bad hair go away, you fit into all of your clothes just right, the universe starts to agree with you, and you become "cool" - all the questions and doubts about boys would suddenly be answered. As if once that day arrives, the plug just enters our brain, we can hear the "click" sound and the power just flows into our minds making all the bad parts of life just disappear.

Then I grew up.

That day of enlightenment will not happen. No matter how many Cosmo's you read (and I read a LOT)

Men are just boys who haven't grown up.

And as much as we hate to admit, we haven't stopped being little girls either.

At least I haven't.

I'm still crushing. And crushing hard.

On a boy.

And I do everything in my power to put my best foot forward hoping he'll notice.

Of course, it's more grown up like. I don't punch, I flirt. Barely, I never was good at that. I don't push people off swings or say you can't sit here anymore either. I just give looks instead.

But there's some acts that don't change, such as fighting for attention, playing cat and mouse, and finding ways to make sure that people knows he's "your" boy.

And 8 times out of 10 those boys still get the hint, but there in a "You make a good friend/You're fun for now/You're one of many/Maybe, someday, not now" stage.

Yet, he, and them, still eat all the attention up.

And, we are willing to supply it. Again and again.

Because we hope...