My son has a girlfriend.
They met at a home-school gathering, and I couldn’t help but notice how they were enjoying each other’s company. When I asked him for her name, he replied, “L,” which is significant since he rarely asks anyone for their name. I suspect he has friends he’s known for ages but can only identify them by vague descriptions, like “the boy with the red hat who brings the best snacks.”
Curious, I reached out to L’s mom, who turned out to be an incredibly relatable person. “And L has a skateboard just like me!” my son, Leo, exclaimed as he dashed by. This sparked a conversation about our shared love for outdoor activities, and I discovered that not only do they enjoy the same hobbies, but they also have a fondness for the same obscure shows (the new Scooby-Doo, a spy series, and Doctor Who). They even share gluten sensitivity and a belief in Bigfoot! It seems like a perfect match.
During their last kayaking trip, Leo proposed to her. While they haven’t settled on a date yet (he’s leaning towards sooner while she prefers later), he insists, “…she totally said yes, Mom!”
Both Leo and L are just 6 years old.
I’ve always had reservations about childhood romances. I worried it might lead to the premature sexualization of kids. When kids call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, what comes next? I remember when my cousin kissed someone in kindergarten, and we all felt envious. Although I understand it’s innocent, there’s still that nagging thought about the implications of young children having romantic titles. I never wanted my son to think it was acceptable to kiss anyone outside of family.
I believed their imagination could be better spent elsewhere—running around, pretending to be superheroes or explorers instead of contemplating marriage, which Leo apparently did while they were out on the lake, sans adults. (Rest assured, there were adults nearby, and everyone was safely wearing their life jackets.) I felt it was more crucial for them to engage in creative play rather than worrying about wedding plans (he thinks they should tie the knot at 8; she suggests they wait until college).
Honestly, I was slightly uncomfortable with the whole idea of grade schoolers labeling themselves as boyfriend and girlfriend. To me, it seemed as if it taught girls that their ultimate goal was to get married, wear a white dress, and start a family. I didn’t want my son contributing to that mindset.
However, things have changed.
Leo and L primarily enjoy playing together. They solve mysteries, play with toy kitchens, and run around, engaging in activities typical of young friends. I’ve only observed a few instances of what could be deemed “couple-like” behavior, which really just resemble friendly interactions: they’ve taken pictures of each other on their moms’ phones and on their recent kayaking trip, they splashed each other and chatted as they floated down the river together.
They aren’t pretending to have a baby or planning a wedding. They see “boyfriend and girlfriend” as just a term for best friends, a model they’ve likely seen in adults. Leo will tell you that L is his best friend, and I’ve heard her say the same. The whole notion of marriage is just a playful addition. They don’t kiss each other, though Leo does hold hands with everyone! I doubt they’ll be sneaking off for romantic moments anytime soon.
And that’s the kind of relationship in grade school that I can wholeheartedly accept.
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In summary, my son Leo’s relationship with his classmate L is a charming, innocent friendship that involves playful interactions rather than anything overly serious. They enjoy each other’s company and share common interests, which is what childhood friendships are all about.