I picked up my four year-old daughter from preschool. After buckling her into the car, she turns to me with those intense, dark eyes and smiles broadly. I melt as I always do. I'm so in love with this kid. No matter what chaos is going on in my life, she centers me. She hugs my neck and I can smell the scent of the playground in her hair mixed with a little sweat. Spring in South Florida heats up fast. I get into the front seat of the car and start the drive home.
"Mommy?" I hear her dainty voice making sure I have her attention.
"Yes, Doodle?" I peered into the rear-view mirror to look at her innocent face.
"I'm gonna marry Jenna," she announced with an air of certainty.
"You mean Jonathan or Tannor?" I tried to clarify.
"NO. Jen-Na," she enunciated, like I was a little slow on the uptake.
"I see. You're not going to marry a boy?"
"No. They are scary and they always want to act like a monster or a animal," she explained.
Yea, that doesn't change much, kid, but they do grow on you. "You might change your mind when you get older," I suggested. "So there are going to be two mommies in your family?" I'm in for a penny, I guess.
"That would be silly," she giggles.
"Mommy, maybe when I'm five I'll marry a boy after Jenna." We pull up into the parking space and my honey comes to help us get some things out of the car. "That's who I'll marry, mommy," she says pointing at my boyfriend.
Okay, my little budding bisexual, darling divorcee with an Electra complex. Clearly, I'm going to have my hands full in the next few years.
