Meeting the Kids *Dum Dum Dum!*

"Are you nervous?" Mr. Curls asked Friday.
"No, not really. You?"
"Um... yeah," he admitted.
I gave him an extra tight hug and sent him on his way.

Saturday, I got to the mall a couple minutes before Mr. Curls and the kids did. I watched them walk up, thinking, "That's them. Those are the kids." Then I gave Mr. Curls a hug hello and got introduced to the boys and we were off to play black light mini golf.

We got set up with our neon golf balls and clubs and decided to tee off in order of height. The nine year old went first, then me, then the other boy, then Mr. Curls. I was entertained that the only one shorter than me was nine. I was especially entertained 'cause I was wearing boots that have an inch and a half heel on them.

Mr. Curls won the first round of golf so I propositioned the boys. "Alright guys, one of us has to beat him this time." They were all over that idea. As Mr. Curls got ready to take his shot on the first hole, me and the boys made faces at him to ruin his concentration. It worked, too. The teenager won round two. As I told Mr. Curls, ganging up on him was a calculated move 'cause I didn't want the boys to feel like I was competition for his attention or such, so if I could be on their side, then it'd help avoid that interloper feeling.

At any rate, after round two, and Mr. Curls carefully recalculating the score card, the boys and I high-fived each other. Golf score aside, it was definitely a win because of how well the boys and I were getting along. After golf, we did lunch at the food court, then the boys went to the game store, giving me and Mr. Curls a minute alone.

"What do you think?" Mr. Curls asked, with just a touch of nervousness still in his voice.
"I think they're very much like you. I like them."
"Good."
"What do you think?"
He smiled, visibly more relaxed. "I think today was a good day."

He called later that night to tell me he'd talked with the boys about meeting me after they left the mall. They said they liked me. By then, I wasn't too worried, since there had been a couple things during the afternoon that told me as much - like the nine year old saying, "You're gonna come back to the apartment with us, aren't you?" So, you know, I wasn't too worried that they'd hated me.

Now I've met the kids. On to the next milestone.