On true love at two

My son might be only two-and-a-half, but he seems to be in love. While he’s always been a lady’s man, the most enduring object of Henry’s affections is his best friend, Dede, whom he’s known since he was a baby. Henry and Dede have a regular play date every Friday, but still, she’s often on his mind.

I open up my laptop? “See pictures Dede!” (He has been known to kiss and even lick printed pictures of his lady love.)

I tell him when we’re in the car that someday he’ll drive a car, too? “See Dede!”

We watch two horses gallop through Elysian fields in the ‘94 film “Black Beauty”? “Henry and Dede!”

I ask him to name his favorite color? "Dede!"

Henry and Dede hold hands, take baby dolls for walks in toy strollers together, feed each other tofu and noodles, and insist that if one has something (like a sip of a particularly yummy drink), the other one gets one too. They gambol like lambs across the grass and have been known to nearly spoon while napping.

Hen’s affection for Dede warms the cockles of my heart for a bunch of reasons. First of all, when I was his age, I didn’t really have friends, at least not ones who I saw regularly or who could be trusted to not make me, say, climb in the bath tub with a pair of ducks. There are three possible explanations for my early friendlessness:

1. Even at that age, I was a bit peculiar.
2. We did live in an isolated place, in rural Delaware, no less.
3. My parents’ generation didn’t quite get it that no matter how young a child is, friends are really crucial to a kid’s development and mental health, not to mention appreciation of joy.

Not that I’ve read anything on this, but I like to think that thanks to early love for someone other than a family member, his little neurons are making connections that will serve him for the rest of his life. Love is a cat’s cradle in neurobiological terms; better that his brain learn how to play it – and take joy in it -- sooner rather than later.

That Hen’s best little friend is a girl, and that they dote on each other so much, makes me hopeful for his future relationships with women. When I was pregnant and first found out I was expecting a boy, I was horrified. Not just by the fact that I had a penis inside me for nine months straight, but more by the challenge of raising a boy to be kind, thoughtful, and respectful to women. Sure, my father and my husband are both wonderful men, but I worried that somehow their example and my influence could be overridden by other factors: some unaccountable Tucker Max-esque personality trait (not that you should click on that), society’s misogyny in general, or Sarah Palin as president.

But even though he’s only a few years old and, I’m pretty sure we’re on the right track. Thanks, Dede! (And thanks to your mom, too, who agreed to let me blog about how fabulous you are.)

Henry and Dede.