So sweet, no? Then I opened it up:
(Dear Mom, I love Truman. Could I marry Truman when I'm 16?)
Practically anyone who's spent any time with our family knows that my four year old has a mad crush on her older brother's best friend. And friends, this is not a passing fancy. Truman has been the apple of this girl's eye for the past nine months or so, which, when you're four, represents a significant percentage of your lifespan.
I'm not exactly sure whence the charm. The boy is sweet, pleasantly goofy, and good-natured -- indeed, tolerates her declarations of affection with patience and an occasional head-pat -- but not exactly tall, dark and handsome. Not to mention hunky and mysterious. However, he does play in a band. (Guess who made an electric guitar out of tinfoil recently?) And has lately taken to wearing a fedora.
She writes him love notes, and mails them once in a while, sometimes with a piece of candy tucked inside. She draws pictures of their wedding. She makes declarations like this one: "Mom, I found out there's another girl who loves Truman. But I will WIN HIM."
These are the moments when I would dearly love a child psychiatrist on speed-dial. Do I even need to tell you that neither of her older siblings has EVER expressed interest in ANYONE of the opposite sex?
But instead, I draw a deep breath and remind myself to keep the big picture in mind here, which of course, is my relationship with the small being in my household who knows her own mind, brims with unabashed feeling, and trusts me to hold her heart in my hands.
It's small stuff. And I won't sweat it. But I reserve the right to roll my eyes and throw my hands desperately in the air when the occasion demands it.