The Object of Her Affection

Call me Mother of the Year.

Earlier this summer, I realized that a good friend's daughter would be in Peanut's Kindergarten class. I promptly joked that we'd see each other in the principal's office. She promptly pointed out that it wouldn't be because of her daughter. She's right, but that's another story.

As we progressed through the first few weeks of Kindergarten, my friend e-mailed me to let me know her daughter had made up a song about Peanut. I chuckled, not at this little girl, but rather at the idea that she likes my son. For the record, the song is really cute. I then joked that she has a crush on Peanut.

Turns out I wasn't wrong.

Last Friday, my friend and I found ourselves hanging out on the playground, watching our children play. As we were getting ready to leave, my friend's daughter picked up her Ken doll and said, "Hey Peanut, you're as handsome as my Ken doll!"

I lost it. Bent double with laughter. And looked up at my friend at said, "They're so getting married. Get ready."

My friend, who's infinitely more sensible than myself, pointed out that we have Prom and the teenage years to get through first, then college. Deal with that first.

As we walked to our respective vehicles, Peanut's Girlfriend yelled a goodbye involving a made-up nickname. My friend and I both chuckled, as we mommies are known do when our children are being sweet. As we walked to our car, Peanut was giving his commentary on his day.

He did not mention the little girl. At all.

Heaven help him, my son is oblivious.

If he figures this out in time, maybe they'll go trick-or-treating together. Isn't that what five-year-old couples do?

Call me Mother of the Year.