Ah, the fickle nature of young love. I remember my own playground days, when I used to partake in an ill-advised game called "kissy-monster," in which a boy would chase me incessantly around the playground saying he'd kiss me if he caught up. Looking back, I'm not sure why the teachers never put a stop to this, but hey, there's the 90s for you — plus, they could probably tell we were getting some pretty kickass kindergarten cardio.
It was also fairly clear at the time that this boy had no real intentions of kissing me on my cootie-infested mouth, which is why I never had to contend with what this little girl did. Imagine this: one minute you're minding your own business, sitting idly in the front seat of the cart that your mom is pushing around and admiring cereal boxes in the grocery aisle, and the next minute, the long-haired punk toddler in the seat next to you is leaning over and trying to plant one on you.
I have to say, this little girl is my new personal hero. Her reactions to his attempts at kissing her are the epitome of sass. When he first leans in you can practically see the "AS IF" on her face so clearly that it feels like she actually said it out loud, and when she does say no to him, she says it LOUDLY and clearly (and adorably.) There were so many times in my own post-pubescent confusion when I kissed guys even if I wasn't feeling it, out of some misguided notion that I shouldn't hurt their feelings, but this little girl was having none of it, and I LOVE her for it. Way to respect yourself. Way to know what you want. Way to already basically be a better feminist than a hell of a lot of adult women.
As for this suave little boy, I'm glad he is learning about consent at an early age: no means no. Especially when the two of you have yet to graduate from diapers.