My four-year-old, Lil' C, is quite smitten with my friend Heather's daughter, Kate.  She's pretty sweet on him, too.  They take swimming lessons together and are on the same micro soccer team.  They make a darling little couple.

I think a lot about the types of women my sons will end up with.  And I think about what kinds of mothers those women will have.  Since I adore Heather for being such a sweet, funny, and laid back friend, I'm going to hold out hope for the next twenty years that this is a relationship that will work out.

In the meantime, since they have so much fun together, we'll just keep planning playdates.  Before their most recent one, Lil' C excitedly said to me, "Kate can touch my weapon!"  Even though he was holding a toy light saber, my adult mind of course thought something else.  I giggled and went to update my Facebook status.

As soon as Kate arrived at our house, the kids disappeared and played great together. After Kate was gone, I asked Lil' C what they had played.

"We played doctor!" he said.

"You did?"  Hmmm, perhaps we should have supervised a little more closely, my adult mind again imagining something inappropriate.

"Yes, Mommy, animal doctor.  Do you want to see our office?"  He took me to the basement and showed me where they had been playing.  I was relieved to see that a chaperone was at least present:

Just as I was smiling in relief at the innocence of youth, he added, "After we were done playing doctor, we went up to my bedroom for a party!"

Aye, yi, yi, how will I ever survive his teen years?
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