Last week Odessa turned three. (Why yes, I DID keep her alive for three whole years! Take THAT, People Who Thought I Couldn't!) But here's the thing: I didn't think I'd have to look up minimum age requirements for marriage in the state of Georgia so early. (In case you were interested: a minor needs to be 16 years old and have the consent of both parents unless the bride is pregnant, in which case no parental signature is required. Jesus, be merciful....)
So anyway, there's this boy named Ben. That's him with Odessa on the right. He's a pretty normal 3-year-old boy: he's into trains and bears, he's got a bowl cut, he's already figured out how to make a fist and punch somebody in the face. No surprises there.
But that little kid is the King of Odessa's Heart. He figures into literally every conversation she initiates, she's constantly bringing home little gifts from him, last week when I took cupcakes to her class for her birthday, they sat at their assigned seats at separate tables, holding hands behind their backs, getting up every so often to grope each other. Their teachers are like, "There have been years when we've had couples in class before, but really nothing like this."
Which is just exactly the way I'd want my daughter to distinguish herself! (And that, Friends, is an example of a type of verbal irony called sarcasm.)
But here's the thing: they are SO happy together, it's difficult to know where to draw the line. I mean they basically look like this all day long:
Sweet Mothering Sunday, I will put up with any amount of foolishness if my daughter will make this face once a day for the rest of her life. People who make this face every day live to be like 1000 years old.
Anyway, I tell people about Ben and Odessa and they're like, "How is it that these toddlers are having such tender feelings for each other? Aren't they kinda young for romance?"
And I'm like, "Weeeeeelll." And then I change the subject, because here's the thing: I think she might have inherited it from me. Because I was exactly the same way when I was three.
And it's okay right now: love at three is totally manageable and adorable and even heart-swelling. But at 14, this shit is coming back to bite me in the butt. And I'm going to be like, DAMN YOU, GENETICS!!!!