Prince Charming Goes to Preschool

She calls him “Jimbo” now. She is 5, he is 4, and they are in love.

Chelsea and Jimbo. Sittin’ in a tree.

Maybe it’s all the princess and fairy movies that turn 5-year-old girls into little Cinderellas, eagerly awaiting their Prince Charmings. I can remember Katie, at 3 or 4, greeting my return home from work with the following command: “Daddy, you need to come upstairs with me now so we can get married.” And on we’d go, to dance at the royal wedding in her bedroom. (Katie, are you sure you don’t want to go outside and have a catch?)

Chelsea is more of a Tinker Bell kid, but she buys into the Disney-fied view that the love of her life is just a heartbeat away. She’s also gotten a heavy dose of the High School Musical medicine, and it’s clear that her preschool classmate and fellow church member Jimmy is the Troy to her Gabriella. (“It’s hard to believe / That I couldn’t see / You were always there beside me ...” )

They play together in school, attend each other’s birthday parties, and sit together in church. On a recent Sunday, Chelsea and Jimmy could be seen drawing together in the pew, coloring pictures of Adam and Eve. For Valentine’s Day, he gave her a necklace. With Tinker Bell on it, of course. When we explained to Chelsea that she and Jimmy will be attending different kindergartens next year, she bawled.

There will come a time, sooner than I’d like, when the word “boyfriend” will send a shiver down my spine. I have already developed a three-point plan for the first real boyfriend that either girl brings home: First of all, he needs to come over and do homework with her, at the kitchen table, at least two nights a week; second, he needs to come to church and out to dinner with us a few times; third, he needs to spend a weekend helping me paint the basement. Then we’ll see.

For now, at least, the older one is giving me no such worries. Katie, at age 8, is far removed from that once-upon-a-time world of knights in shining armor. By first grade, she had begun to have real conversations with boys in her class. And they had reached a tacit understanding: If Katie could run as fast as them, or beat them in sports, then she was super cool. Katie met those requirements, and that was all the boys asked of her. Katie asks nothing of them, except that they understand she’s got way more important things to do right now than look for her own Troy. Reading, gymnastics, art, swimming, her new puppy – those are the loves of her life right now.

Chelsea, I’m sure, will follow suit and drift away from the world of preschool romance. She will find her own inner Hannah Montana and drift away from Gabriella. But I have to say, I think I will miss it.

Maybe you have to see her sit down next to Jimmy, and watch the way they communicate through subtle changes in their bright smiles. You have to see the way they look at each other – not so much like two kids in love, but like two kids who have forged a partnership through a critical stage of growth and development. They are lifting each other up, and helping each other figure out how to socialize, play fair, be considerate and care for their peers. You ought to see them hug, in a way that goes beyond the awkwardness of 5-year-olds and into the embrace of companionship. It’s something to see.

So go on, kid. Go to preschool. And don’t forget to say hi to Jimbo for me. He doesn’t have to paint the basement. Let’s have him over for a play date.