There is a girl in my son’s kindergarten class who is cute.
How do I know she is cute?
My son keeps telling me. And telling her mother (“I think Rosemary is cute and I hope she sits by me on the field trip”). And telling our neighbors. And, at least once, a checkout person at Target.
He seeks her out at school events. He tells her she looks pretty. He has mentioned, on more than one occasion, that he plans to marry her and have anywhere from four to 100 babies.
I am bemused by this, of course, but also a little wary. He is putting his little heart out there and I’m not sure if his affections are returned. Rosemary seems a little shy, a little more reserved than my boy. Though, to be fair, almost everyone is more reserved that Bobo is. He is my boy, through and through.
It is easy to find this case of sweet puppy love adorable and funny but sometimes I let my worrying brain get the best of me and I flash forward 10 years to a 15 year old Bobo getting his heartbroken by some girl who doesn’t love him back.
He is cute and funny and smart…but some day someone won’t like him back or won’t like him enough and he’ll feel that universal feeling of sadness and maybe embarrassment and will wonder if he’ll ever find the right person.
(that is universal, right? Not just my depressing experience of the dating life?)
Here is the thing that sucks about having kids: you make these creatures, you love them more than you love anything else and then you have to send them into the world with all of its disappointments and shittyness and heartbreak. And they have to experience those things or else they’d probably be monsters with no empathy.
And then you read articles like this: http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/2013/09/social-media-internet-porn-teenage-girls and suddenly sending your kids away to live with the Amish seems like a totally valid and appropriate parenting decision.
As does downing some ice cream at 11pm while fretting about your son’s first field trip and if the lovely Rosemary will put her booster seat next to his on the bus.
(please say yes, Rosemary, he is a good kid and really wants you to come over someday and do Legos. I’ll make cookies)