Yesterday I made a pot roast for dinner. I had just finished cleaning up the living room when I heard a familiar jump rope chant.
“Ice cream sundae, cherry on top…” sang the Oldest Kidlet as he jumped around the living room (no rope).
“Who’s your girlfriend?” I chimed in with.
He stopped, looked at me… and said the name of a girl in his class.
Believe it or not, that wasn’t the part that really gave me pause. But it did make me stand and stare at him for a moment.
I’ve known for awhile that he’s the sort of boy girls like. In preschool he was followed by a trio of girls I called the Hive Mind for their eerie ability to speak in unison (if they were blonde I would have called them the Stepford Cuckoos). He didn’t like girls, and they chased him everywhere. His teacher handled it quite well, and we had long conversations about polite rejections. By the end of the year they were on good terms and he was friends with one of the girls (she had a major crush on him), but he maintained that he didn’t like girls.
This year, his close friends have all been girls. There’s the little girl with highlights in her hair (who thinks my clothes are awesome). There’s the tomboy who came to his birthday party. Then there’s the third girl from their table who is very quiet and reserved. (That isn’t even counting the dozen other girls who all say goodbye to him as we’re walking out of the kindergarten yard)
I knew he was especially close to the tomboy (they were inseparable at her birthday party), but the girl he said was the quiet one! So I asked what happened to the other girl.
“Oh, I like her too. I am Oldest Kidlet the Great* and I like girls.”
I’m not going to get much sleep his entire life, am I?
* Nate the Great is his favorite book series, and both the boys refer to themselves as “the Great” from time to time. The good news is that now both of them will look for toys they’ve lost.