Kissing the Princess

Andrew has always loved princesses. He loves the movies, the stories, and he doesn’t even mind dressing up with the girls. Anywhere we go that resembles a castle turret of sorts (ie. Disneyland, Benedict Castle, the small tower-like structure on Mt. Rubidoux), he is convinced there is a damsel in distress that needs to be rescued and he’s just the man to do it.

He’s even begun calling one of the little girls in his sunbeam class “Princess.”

Friday night, at the wedding reception, he told us that the princess (or the bride) was going to say to him, “I want to kiss you.” And then he would say, “Yes.” He went about telling others that he would not be kissing her on the cheek or the nose; he was going straight for the lips.

Then Saturday night at the Eagle Court of Honor we attended, he spotted the only other 3 year old in the room and insisted on sitting at the table next to the “princess,” so he could talk to her of course. The night went on and he kept looking for a way to get her attention. Eventually he offered her a small handful of M&M’s and then went so far as to give her and her little sister a balloon each saving only one for himself.

He continually talks about kissing girls, he rewinds TV shows over and over to watch the one girl he has picked out as the one he “likes a lot.” It’s cute sometimes, it’s downright hilarious at others, but really I find this advanced maturity a little scary. My desperate, pleading prayer is that this phase ends by the time he is eight and doesn’t return until the age of 22. I suppose I shouldn’t hold my breath…