My daughter announced to me yesterday that she is simply too young for marriage. I love these little conversations that give me depth into her thought process, so I delved further.
“Are you going to get married when you’re bigger?”
“Do you know who you’re going to marry?” I continue to prod.
“Yes, Jon,” she replies. I’m puzzled, because she doesn’t know anyone names Jon. “Jon who?” I ask. “My father!” she replies.
Ah, I see. My husband, Jonathan. Only his family calls him Jon, and while she knows his name (you know, besides Daddy), but I didn’t think she referred to him as Jon. And then, I realize, she wants to marry her daddy. I’ve heard about this stage, when kids want to marry their parents. My son never went through it, so this is a first for me.
“You want to marry daddy?” I ask.
“Yes. My father and mother.” Sniff, she wants to marry both of us! Too sweet, my little girl. I decided to save the why-you-can’t-marry-your-parents conversation for later and enjoy her innocence.