Valentines were a really big deal in 5th grade. We not only still made the Valentine's boxes as in years past to be filled with cartoon cards and cheap candy, but there could now be potentially hidden meaning in the Valentines we distributed.
So I proceeded with caution as I signed my cards. My mom had bought some animal themed Valentines, among others. Some of the animals were cute, like the chicks or cats. But there was also a hideous looking cow with its face plastered at the front of the card saying, "I hope you have an udderly awesome Valentine's Day!" Yuck.
I carefully selected the prettiest Valentines for my best friends and signed my name with gold ink for the boy I liked (and then signed a few more with gold ink to throw him off the trail). Now for that cow one.
And then I knew who that card would be perfect for! There was a boy who just . . . talked about cows a lot. He thought they were hilarious. So I signed his name and my name on that card and called it a night.
The next afternoon, after we had passed around our cards, I examined my haul. As I opened my card from cow-boy, I gasped and immediately tossed it down.
He had given me the same ugly cow Valentine.
What could this mean? Why had he given this to me? Was it fate that we had given each other the same ugly cow Valentine? He didn't like me, did he? He didn't hate me, did he?
Turns out it was none of that, at least as far as I could tell. If there was any hidden meaning in the Valentines, it was only from the girls' end.
. . . I think that's pretty much the story of all Valentines ever.
So I proceeded with caution as I signed my cards. My mom had bought some animal themed Valentines, among others. Some of the animals were cute, like the chicks or cats. But there was also a hideous looking cow with its face plastered at the front of the card saying, "I hope you have an udderly awesome Valentine's Day!" Yuck.
I carefully selected the prettiest Valentines for my best friends and signed my name with gold ink for the boy I liked (and then signed a few more with gold ink to throw him off the trail). Now for that cow one.
And then I knew who that card would be perfect for! There was a boy who just . . . talked about cows a lot. He thought they were hilarious. So I signed his name and my name on that card and called it a night.
The next afternoon, after we had passed around our cards, I examined my haul. As I opened my card from cow-boy, I gasped and immediately tossed it down.
He had given me the same ugly cow Valentine.
What could this mean? Why had he given this to me? Was it fate that we had given each other the same ugly cow Valentine? He didn't like me, did he? He didn't hate me, did he?
Turns out it was none of that, at least as far as I could tell. If there was any hidden meaning in the Valentines, it was only from the girls' end.
. . . I think that's pretty much the story of all Valentines ever.
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