Punishable Kiss

I usually eat lunch outside on a picnic table designed for children. My knees press into the bottom of the table, and I hunch over my sandwich so far that I can see my fly.

But today was different. One of the first-grade teachers asked me to watch her class while she ran a quick errand. Why not? I can watch some six-year-old kids while I jam on my lunch. "I'll be back in 30 minutes," the first-grade teacher said walking out. "Make sure they don't stand up. That's a rule in my classroom: no getting up without permission. If they do, it's a timeout in the Corner," she called over her shoulder.

I capitalized "Corner" because there actually is a "Time-Out Corner" labeled with a laminated placard and sad face.

While pontificating the somewhat tribal act of eating lunch in a school setting, I noticed tiny Jane in the third row. In a class primarily of Indian kids, her baby-blue eyes stood out. Where most of the other girls' hair blended with their black uniforms, tiny Jane's platinum blond hair streaked across her jumper.

Jane was slowly unwrapping her Hostess Cupcake. She meticulously slid the cupcake out of the wrapping taking extra care not to scrape any frosting on the bag. She sacredly held the cupcake in her left hand, and with her right, she smoothed out the wrapper to make a tablecloth, of sorts, for her dessert. She placed her cupcake on the plastic doily and reached for her juice.

And that's when it happened.

Her elbow grazed the edge of the cupcake, and the wonderful Hostess treat, smooth frosting and all, fell into the squalor below.

I saw her tears even before they welled up in her eyes. Jane's tears were not for attention; they were a reaction to true sadness. Her face tightened as if spider legs were attacking her perfect blue eyes.

I started walking over to comfort her, but another boy beat me to it. An equally tiny Iqbal broke the cardinal rule of the classroom in order to get out of his seat and approach Jane. He tiled his head to the side, and he gave Jane a kiss on the cheek.

As if a crying girl in wasn't bad enough, now a puny James Bond thought he could accost any girl he wanted?

I inhaled, ready to release a booming chastisement at Iqbal. I loaded my arsenal of rhetoric: How could you get out of your seat? Don't you know the rules? Get to the Corner! But Jane's childish smile safetied my trigger. Iqbal actually made her happy. In the wake of the destroyed cupcake, a very random kiss stopped the tears.

Both Iqbal and Jane knew the magnitude of a kiss, so it wasn't easy to ignore this act. This was intentional. There was something so purposeful and pure about the moment.

The kiss was untainted by the typical social contexts and gravitas. A kiss not to court or to show romance. A kiss extended as a simple offering of friendship and comfort. Nothing more. No strings. No guilt. No wondering about relationships or the future. How could I punish something so charming?

I left work today feeling happy...and not because it was Friday.