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Cooties & Stitches

Updated on March 14, 2016

Who Ever Thought Kissing Would be this Dangerous

Circle, circle, dot, dot, now you have a cootie shot. Sound familiar? The adorable little rhyme is the reason I have a scar on my forehead, and is extremely sensitive to touch. Kissing was dangerous as a child, and highly not recommended. It leads to nothing but blood and emergency rooms. At least, that was my take away as a preschooler.

Love, or young love I should correct. I had it with Darran Moore. My first preschool boyfriend and crush. He had the sweetest little black fro, big brown eyes and the cutest small-toothed white smile I ever saw. He wore matching sweat suits in the winter, and cut off tanks in the summer. We were inseparable, and no one, not even teachers could tear us apart. Meltdowns were guaranteed if the attempt ever occurred, and it didn’t happen often. Only the promise of our mothers that we’d see each other tomorrow solved this issue.

If he ate paste, I was eating paste. If he threw a ball at a kid, I was there throwing it too. If he laid down a Michael Jackson move, I too attempted it - thank goodness there wasn’t YouTube back then cause yeesh. His nap pack was always next to mine, and we lay there watching Sesame Street till we dozed off to sleep. Simple times. Great times.

Then the cootie game happened, and our ‘normal’ routine of stay away from the other kids was disrupted… It was the “cool” game everyone was playing, and Darran wanted to play too. So of course, I played. One of the not-so-great decisions I’ve made.

“Circle, circle, dot, dot, now you have a cootie shot…” a remedy given for a kiss you’d give a boy if you had the chance to land a smooch. Why this was allowed, I have no idea.

With a head start I let the boys flee, my feet were made for speed, and an eye only for one. I chased Darran all over the playground- kissy face and all, arms outstretched, and determination roaring through me.

“Neener Neener Neener, you can’t chase us…” the boys would taunt.

Darran climbed the domed jungle gym all the way to the top and joined in the chorus. Why this angered me, who knows.

I took the bars two at a time both hands and feet working in unison. I neared the top and my mind must’ve gone all mushy because all of a sudden I reached out and grabbed air. I began slipping through the hole at the top and found my strength failed me. Hitting what seemed like every bar on the way down, I landed face first into the tan bark below.

Gasps and squeals began, and kids ran for a teacher for aide.

Redness clouded my vision as blood spilled from my forehead (yes I remember). It didn’t hurt, I was more embarrassed than in pain. Teacher came dashing over with a wet cloth and cleaned me up, but the blood just kept on coming. That’s when the tears welled up in my eyes, I knew it was bad because the teachers looked more panicked then I did.

I don’t remember how long it took until my mom arrived to take me to emergency, however I remember waving good-bye to Darran and thought, ‘that’s why I hate kissing.’

Disney movies were my favorite, however I could do without the smooching.


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