“Mom, you know how I told my brothers who I like the other day?”
“No. I didn’t know that. Would you like to tell your Mom who you like?” I respond in the most nonchalant tone I can find.
“LuckyBoy. And I used to like him in TK but then I didn’t because I liked LuckyBoy2, you know, with the gelled, slicked back hair. And then I *started* to like MyBestFriendsCrush but then I prayed to Jesus so I wouldn’t like him. And then I didn’t like him. And now I like LuckBoy again. It changes all the time. I told him because I didn’t want him to tell everyone; and then it would just be weird.”
“Wow, Sweet Pea. He’s a nice boy. What did he say when you told him that you liked him?”
“He said he liked me too, but he doesn’t want me to obsess about him.”
“Did he say that?”
“No. I just know. So I ‘like’ him; I don’t ‘like like’ him if you know what I mean…’like’ like ‘love.’ I don’t mean that kinda ‘like.’”
A few days later she told me that LuckyBoy told her first that he liked her. “How did that conversation come about?” I asked in my pretend nonchalant voice again.
“I asked him, ‘Who do you like?’ And he said, ‘Kinda YOU.’”
As a mother, I am edified when 9-year-old boys see what I do in my daughter. Thankfully, they are still young and innocent; and their affection is genuine. It makes sense to me that she likes this boy. He’s fun and cute and from a good family and nice. His mother is amazing. But I cannot get over how she just puts it out there. Like her father. The boys and I are much more guarded about that type of thing. Life will never be dull with all these personalities!
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