Two Boyfriends

My daughter told me in the car today she had two boyfriends.   I sort of had an idea who one of them was going to be because, for a blind child, my daughter can be fairly transparent about some things.

She had casually said early in the spring she knew that Whitaker had a crush on her.   She was okay with it, she said, but I shouldn't say anything.   And from one adult to another, you know darn well I wasn't getting in the middle of neighborhood child romances—not at seven and five years of age.

About two days later, Whitaker came into our house and was heading for the basement after finding out from me that's where my son was.  My daughter rounded the corner under speeds achieved only when you're looking for someone and don't want to miss them when they arrive.   She said, "I know you have a crush on me, Whit," and then, message delivered, she left.

Would she have stayed to see the look on Whitaker's face had she been sighted?   I think she might have.   Since she couldn't get feedback from observing him though, she just left.   I saw the look of surprise followed by confusion and then possibly embarrassment flash across Whitaker's face in the two seconds that followed before he ducked downstairs to meet up with my son.

After that exchange, I wasn't sure who it was that had the crush on whom.   So today, when my daughter informed me she had two boyfriends, I asked some questions.  First and foremost, I asked who these young men were that my daughter was dating?   I wasn't surprised to hear one was Jay, who lives a few doors down from our house. Jay is very nice but typically doesn't spend time with my daughter as he's a bit older and mostly does things with the other boys.   My daughter does spend time with Jay's sister, Claire, though, who always looks out for my daughter.   The possible transitive property of sibling kindness could be in play, but regardless of how he was selected, my daughter said Jay was one of her two boyfriends.

The second boyfriend was Sawyer.   She told me Sawyer was one of the three triplets around the corner.   I knew of these boys.   They had moved to the neighborhood not that long ago.  They were the ones who had come to inform my son that some children were talking badly about his sister being blind behind her back.   They wanted my son to know because they thought it was a mean thing to say.   So sight unseen,  I already liked these boys.

I made the mistake of asking my daughter if they were fraternal or identical triplets.   Not that my daughter couldn't know the answer to that question, but you can't ask, "do they look the same?"  She was interested in what the difference was so we had a conversation about splitting eggs and multiple eggs, and how if she and her brother had been in my womb at the same time they would be fraternal and, oh, yes, that's the type of triplets they were, she interrupted when I had gotten to that point in the explanation.

We'd almost gotten home by this time, so I circled back around and asked if she liked one of her boyfriends more than the other one.   "I like Sawyer more," she said, "I think I'm going to ask Sawyer if he'll let me marry him."

The Big Boy Update:  After a glass of milk in the kitchen to help my not-sleepy daughter hopefully get to sleep, we walked into the bedroom to have my son announce from the top bunk in the dark, "Mom, my penis is all red."  Things just don't phase you when you're a parent of young children.  I said, "I'll get the eczema cream."

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  No getting excited about this.   Don't do it.   Because there is never good news.   Okay, promise?   Fine, I'll tell you.   My daughter was using her iPad today.  Not listening to it, using it.   She couldn't see much if anything on it.   But she was trying to do something on it.   It was an app she had to touch something on the screen.   Not much, but something.  Normally she wouldn't even try and would go straight for audiobooks.   She had lost most colors but Chelsea said today she thought she was able to discern some of the colors more easily.   And she's been riding her bike.   That one still scares the bejeezus out of me, but it's an important freedom.   Is there something more or better or not as bad?   Do not even think it, be prepared to think it if I get more evidence in the coming weeks.   For now, just hope to possibly be able to think it.   A teeny tiny bit better would be big.   Any improvement would be huge for her.  To her.