So, my little guy, Oliver, has a girlfriend now. They met during a home-school event, and I spotted them hanging out together. Curious, I asked him her name. “L,” he replied, which is pretty impressive since he usually refers to friends by vague descriptors like “the girl with the sparkly backpack.”
After some digging, I found L’s mom, who turned out to be a genuinely nice person. “And L has a skateboard just like me!” Oliver exclaimed as he dashed by. That sparked a great chat between L’s mom and me about our shared love for outdoor adventures. It turns out these two not only get along famously but also share similar interests—like obscure TV shows (the latest Scooby Doo, some secret spy series, and Doctor Who). They both have gluten sensitivities and even believe in the Loch Ness Monster. It’s a match made in childhood heaven!
While out kayaking, Oliver proposed to L. They haven’t set a date yet (he’s thinking sooner, while she’s leaning towards later), but “she totally said ‘yes,’ Mom!” he insists.
Now, keep in mind, Oliver is just 6. So is L. I’ve always been wary of childhood romances, thinking they might contribute to the early sexualization of kids. I mean, when kids say they have a boyfriend or girlfriend, what’s next? A kiss under the monkey bars? I remember how jealous I felt when my cousin kissed Travis at the sink in kindergarten. I never kissed my preschool crush, Jacob, but I definitely wanted to. I’ve always thought kids should be out playing, running wild, and letting their imaginations soar rather than planning a wedding—although apparently, that’s exactly what Oliver did while they were out on the lake (don’t worry, adults were supervising, and everyone was wearing life jackets).
Honestly, I had some serious reservations about the whole “boyfriend/girlfriend” label. It felt like a slippery slope—would it teach girls that their ultimate goal was to snag an MRS degree and settle down? I didn’t want my son contributing to that narrative.
But then I saw Oliver and L in action. They play together—solving mysteries, playing house in the toy kitchen, and zooming around outside. Sure, they’ve done a couple of things that could be considered “couple-y,” like taking pictures of each other with their moms’ phones or paddling down the river side by side. But it never felt romantic. They’re just kids being kids, and “boyfriend and girlfriend” was merely their way of expressing their best friendship.
If you ask Oliver, he’ll tell you L is his best friend, and I’ve heard her say the same thing. The idea of marrying her is just an innocent addition to their friendship. They don’t kiss; they hold hands (Oliver holds hands with everyone). I doubt they’ll be sneaking off to kiss behind the swings anytime soon.
And you know what? That’s the kind of elementary school relationship I can get behind. For anyone interested in more about childhood development and relationships, check out this CDC resource, or you can dive into home insemination topics over at Make a Mom and Intracervical Insemination.
In summary, while I once had my doubts about childhood romances, seeing Oliver and L’s innocent friendship has shown me that sometimes, it’s just about having fun and enjoying each other’s company.