Kissa Kiss Ka

The bile rose in mom’s throat as she watched the lip-locked teenagers leaning against the library wall, tickling each other's tonsils with their tongues.

School had just let out, and the library parking lot adjacent to the high school was filled with youngsters waiting for their rides.

A few kids slouched on the sidewalk, hands in their pockets, swaying slightly to the rhythm of their iPods. But the vast majority was joined at the hip to a member of the opposite sex.

The prude in mom, latent all these years, was suddenly awoken. She wanted to shield her son's eyes, smother him to her chest and say, “My sweet, innocent baby, promise me you won’t be exchanging saliva like this in a couple of years. Please tell me you’ll wait until you graduate from medical school or until I'm menopausal - whichever comes later."

The pimply-faced, overgrown adolescents, with their tongues rammed down each other's throats, would not have bothered mom a few years ago. After all, her own hormones had raged at 14 for Rhett Butler and for Father Ralph at 16.

But now, as a parent, the steaminess on the sidewalk where her little angels were trotting and dodging clinging couples, bothered her. Perhaps this is what her own parents were sheltering her from with their incessant “What, When, Where, Why, How?” questions when she was growing up.

Shouldn't there be a law against public displays of affection on school premises? Seriously, if dog owners can be fined $200 for not picking up after their pets, and women can be hounded for nursing in public, why can’t juveniles be barred from kissing on campus?

Underage necking, you see, is seriously injurious to my mom’s health.