Love, Kindergarten Style

Adelle and Gabe, holding hands after school

"Mom, I'm in love with Gabe. He's my boyfriend."

These were the actual words that came out of Adelle's mouth about two months ago. In one of my better parenting moments, I did not react to this outwardly. Internally, I was freaking out.

She's only five!
How can this be happening?
Where did this come from?
What is she being exposed to at school?

Thankfully, none of these thoughts escaped. Instead, I smiled and asked, "What does it mean that you are in love with him and he's your boyfriend?"

She replied simply, "It means he's my best friend who is a boy and I love him."

It was in that instant that I realized that I was projecting my 34 years of (not so great) experiences and understanding onto a kindergarten relationship. I was grossly over-complicating things. What Adelle and Gabe share is true. It is simple. It is pure. It is Love.

I cannot deny the affection they have for one another. Their sweet spirits simply "get" each other; they are kindred. Haven't I met people like that in my lifetime? Absolutely. Some of them are still my closest friends. They are gifts from God to me.

Does it make me a little uncomfortable? Yes. Sometimes it does. But I have to remind myself that my discomfort comes from my own baggage. Not their behavior. They are not acting inappropriately at all. Adelle is very responsible and knows and keeps personal boundaries. I trust her. 

I have come to find great joy and delight in their friendship. They bring out lovely things in each other that I might not get to see otherwise. No one makes Adelle laugh the way Gabe does. He brings out her creativity, imagination, and sense of fun and adventure. Adelle brings a real sweetness and sincerity to Gabe. He delights in making her laugh. He shows genuine affection for her through hugs and holding hands without reservation. It is sweet.

Their friendship is exactly what C.S. Lewis speaks of in The Four Loves:

"Lamb says somewhere that if, of three friends (A, B, and C), A should die, then B loses not only A but “A’s part in C,” while C loses not only A but “A’s part in B.” In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets. Now that Charles is dead, I shall never again see Ronald’s reaction to a specifically Caroline joke. Far from having more of Ronald, having him “to myself” now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald. Hence true Friendship is the least jealous of loves. Two friends delight to be joined by a third, and three by a fourth, if only the newcomer is qualified to become a real friend. They can then say, as the blessed souls say in Dante, “Here comes one who will augment our loves.” For in this love “to divide is not to take away.” Of course the scarcity of kindred souls – not to mention practical considerations about the size of rooms and the audibility of voices – set limits to the enlargement of the circle; but within those limits we possess each friend not less but more as the number of those with whom we share him increases. In this, Friendship exhibits a glorious “nearness by resemblance” to Heaven itself where the very multitude of the blessed (which no man can number) increases the fruition which each has of God. For every soul, seeing Him in her own way, doubtless communicates that unique vision to all the rest. That, says an old author, is why the Seraphim in Isaiah’s vision are crying “Holy, Holy, Holy” to one another (Isaiah VI, 3) The more we thus share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall all have.”

Of all the things my children teach me, the greatest is love. Over and over again and in countless ways, they teach me to see, give, and receive love.