Shaking It With Wilma

As long as you’re here, I might as well tell you about my first crush. I was 7 years old and in the 2^nd grade.

Hold it right there. It seems that I’ve been liking boys for 48 years with a hideous lack of success. This revelation has just ruined my evening, thank you.

Pass the Kleenex and fudge, and let’s get back to my story.

I was a pleasant little girl with a big smile and a forehead to go with it. (See class photo below)

I can’t remember which of the boys in my class had caught my eye. Take your pick; they're all dreamy. I do remember that he often rode his bike down our street.

One Saturday morning I was on the front step of our house shaking the throw rugs while Mom mopped the floor inside. I was pretty proud of this chore and hoped that everyone driving by was noticing how big I was to have such an important job.

One of the rugs was brown shag, and as I shook it, it fluffed up and began to look a lot like fur. Well, like fur to a 7-year-old, anyway. It looked like something the Flintstones might wear and was just the right size to wrap around my body.  Hey, this was neat. People driving by would think Wilma Flintstone was shaking our rugs!

I continued shaking the rest of the rugs, which was more difficult now that I had to hold my arms pressed to my sides in order to keep my fur dress on.  In fact, I shook them all again because the neighbors were probably enjoying seeing Wilma Flintstone helping my mom with housework.

When I spotted the boy from my class coming down the street on his bike, I hugged my fur dress a little tighter and shook those rugs a little harder, hoping to get his attention as he pedaled past. After all, what boy wouldn’t be impressed with a girl who looked exactly like Wilma Flintstone?

He kept his eyes straight ahead as he went by, but I’m pretty sure he saw me. And I’m pretty sure he fell in love with me in my Wilma dress that day. And he never let on. I'm thinking he figured I was out of his league, poor boy.