It must be love, love, love...

 Child Two has a crush.  A genuine, 11-year old boy, blushing-with-embarrassment crush.  We were all taken by surprise.  He’s just a little boy, after all.  Isn’t he?  I suppose by “all” I mean we grownups who still look at him as the tiny little flaxen haired boy that he was and not at all as the strapping young man he is becoming.  And if ever we thought we’d have to face the crushing blows of romance to young hearts, we felt surely it would be with Child One who is nearly in her seventeenth year. But no – it turns out that even though Child One does have periodic friend drama and a date for prom – the bigger deal, the more curious turn, is Child Two’s crush on the girl from Hebrew school. 

The object of Child Two’s crush is fabulous.  She’s a precocious girl with glasses and long brown hair and an adorable smile.  She’s from a great family, she’s smart as a whip and she’s exactly the sort of girl that Sig Other would pick for him given the chance.  But we weren’t given the chance.  Child Two’s baby-boy heart grew an adolescent beat of its own and he went off and picked for himself.   How about that?

We don’t mention Child Two’s crush around the house.  Even Child One is respectful of the delicate glass box Child Two keeps his heart in.  We tiptoe around the issue – periodically suggesting outings or dinners that could include Miss Crush and her family so that the two might spend time together.  I don’t know if Miss Crush knows that she is the object of such ardent affection.  And I certainly don’t know if she reciprocates.   But I do know that the crush makes me love Child Two that much more.  I find myself in awe of who he is today and who is becoming.  He is changing so fast.  Every day I am fascinated to see the young man who wakes up in place of the little boy who went to sleep the night before.  And I am always pleased with who I see.