Not Ready

When my oldest son was one and a half, Santa Claus stupidly brought him a train table.  It was a really cool train table, but the stupidity was giving it to him at such a young age.  He wasn't ready for it.  He really would have loved it at age 3, even 4...but at one and a half, it was a bust.12 years later, and this same son now has a girlfriend.I have to be honest, I don't love it.  Why?  Because I don't think they are ready for a relationship.  Not at 14.  NOT READY.Despite my infinite wisdom in this area, he doesn't seem to listen to me.  But believe me, I know what I am talking about.Back in the fall of 1989, I was a new eighth-grader.  I loved school and friends and everything was great.  At the end of the very first day, some boys came tumbling out of the locker room where my friends and I had congregated.  Laughing, one came over and asked if I wanted to go with Jeremy? (going together=dating, boyfriend/girlfriend, whatever)I paused for a moment, then turned to my giggling girlfriends.  I quickly had a myriad of thoughts run through my head (He likes me!  Holy cow, I can't believe it!  Do I like him?  I don't know...who cares! This is the greatest day of my whole life!!). The maturity of our relationship was obvious from the beginning.  I sent my friend to tell his friend to tell him, YES!I was going with Jeremy.Our courtship consisted of walking down the school hallways holding hands.  We hardly talked, maybe not ever, but we were going together.  It was wonderful.One night, at the high school football game, we were in a group off to the side of the field.  Kids were daring each other to kiss.  I panicked.  I watched as another couple kissed for 13 seconds!  13, people!  The pressure was mounting for Jeremy to kiss me.  My heart was pounding, and I was wondering if sprinting back to the stands would seem cool?  He leaned in so fast, and I whipped my head around equally as fast, so he kissed my hair.  I think I mumbled something about needing to find my parents and I hightailed it out of there.Life kept moving forward, and we stayed together.  I think I got him some small present for Christmas.  Well, Valentine's Day was approaching, and I sheepishly asked my mom if we could get Jeremy a gift.She refused.  Why?  PLEASE?  I can't go to school and not give him anything, Mom!  My mother wouldn't budge...something about it wasn't her boyfriend, and I could use my own money...blah blah blah.  Well, I had no money, and I felt sick.  I didn't know what to do.The big day came.  Valentine's Day.  I went to school with a knot in my stomach.  How could I give him NOTHING?  I kept my head down and went straight to class for first period.  I knew I couldn't avoid him all day.The class ended and I walked to my locker.  I turned my head, and there was Jeremy, walking toward me with a MASSIVE gift.  You know, the big baskets filled with candy and stuffed animals wrapped in cellophane and tied with a big, fat, red bow?That was his present for me.  Oh boy.  I am an idiot.He handed me the basket and said, "Happy Valentine's Day!"  It was so cute and sweet.  So I did what any 13 year-old girl without a gift would do.I broke up with him.Sadly, I really did.  Instead of being honest and upfront about how I felt and my lack of money or gift, I broke up with him.  Believe me, it almost feels as bad writing it down as it did actually doing it in 1990.I tried to give the basket back.  Shocked,  he told me to keep it.  Then he marched off, angry.The backlash from our breakup was acute.  I was called all kinds of hateful things, and my heart broke.  I knew I had been immature and stupid, but I didn't know how to change things.  So I ignored the name-calling and the gossip.  I lived with my tainted reputation.  I pretended not to care.I was not ready.Sorry, Jeremy.(Disclaimer: it was 1989!  And I had just cut my bangs the night before...MUCH shorter than I had wanted to do, but I got them big and high all the same.  hahaha)