It was bound to happen sometime and it took an entire week. Summer is enamored with a boy in her class. And not just any boy. It’s the one who says potty and makes funny faces and sometimes gets in trouble.

To protect his privacy (and so his parents won’t want to kill me), I’ll call him “Elvis.” When I ask Summer how her day went at school, I get the full Elvis rundown. I can barely get her to tell me what she did, but I know allllll about Elvis.

Driving home from an all-girls birthday party this weekend, Summer tells me she’s surprised Elvis wasn’t there. I think it’s pretty funny, Summer’s dad on the other hand, is not laughing.