i probably should have mentioned

we are mormon.

is that so very strange in today’s world?

you’d be surprised how many gasps that statement generates in mixed company.

even today.

even after target and their bathroom scandal. even after #blacklivesmatter and #bluelivesmatter and #alllivesmatter. even after freakin’ donald trump became the gop nominee and freakin’ hrc got away with all kinds of nonsense. do.not.get.me.started.

yet, being a mormon is still shocking.

{i promise, it’s going to be okay. we’ll get through this together.}

i say this because, we literally go to church every single sunday. unless we’re sick or unless i literally can’t even with the kids. but, most of the time, we’re there.

my middle child and only boy – H. – forever entertains me by his deep and abiding affection for church girls. sure, every girl he meets is worthy of his flirtation. but, he particularly loves church girls because they look so darling on the sabbath with their pretty braids and pretty dresses and coquettish little grins.

last sunday, i was in the mother’s lounge with my youngest – A. – a three-year-old heathen who refused to be even the teeniest bit quiet during sacrament. whilst i was whispering stern warnings through gritted teeth into her precious little ears, H. was dictating love notes to his older sister and then passing them to little blondie in the pew ahead of us.

the source of his affections had the misfortune of being attacked by a nest of wasps the day prior and had a swollen, red face of lumps to show for it. to my four-year-old romeo, this was the ultimate feat of bravery, and made her all the more worthy of his love.

at the end of church, as we were attempting to exit, he hurriedly shouted one last request of his beloved.

“leighton, i love you! will you come sleep over at my house?”

now, certainly this was an unreasonable request. certainly, it was so unreasonable that i immediately covered my mouth to hide whatever expression had landed there (embarrassment? amusement?). but, that wasn’t even the worst of it.

my boy’s greatest failing?

her name is not leighton.

leighton is another girl he sometimes loves in his primary class.

the mistake proved fatal.

he was rebuffed by his true love and snickered at by his true love’s grandmother. (“wow, how many girlfriends do you have?”) it was a hard lesson to learn for a four-year-old.

sometimes a rose by any other name is decidedly not just as sweet.

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