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He held crayons in his tiny hands. “Grandma, I’ve got this

big problem.” He stood by the table anxiously.

“In kindergarten, there is this girl I like. I don’t tell her, I

just look at her.”

He spilled the crayons onto the table and supported his

head on his palms, as if it weighed too much.

“I would like to draw something for her or sing a song for

her. I would like to give her flowers, like Grandpa gives to

you. I would like to kiss her. I’ll show you how.”

He came up to her, brushed her hair off her cheek.

“Like this,” he kissed her.

He was looking at her face for a moment and then took her

cheeks between his palms.

“Or straight on the lips, like Grandpa kisses you. Like this,”

he kissed her.

She covered her astonishment with a smile. “If I may give

you any advice,” she tried sounding resolute “it is not to

overdo it. There is no need to hurry. Just start with the