Starting Early

Little girls (come to think of it, so do big ones) love my boy.

They really do.

Whenever we go out, sweet young things suddenly materialize around my young soldier, desperately seeking his attention. They smile at him, pinch his soft cheeks, giggle at his perpetually furrowed brows, ruffle his soft thick hair. Some try to grab his hand or sneak in a hug or, for the truly daring, attempt to plant him a kiss.

Naturally, my flabbergasted son flees, as if his life depended on it, in the opposite direction from the gaggling, ga-ga gals.

And funnily enough, the more my baby runs, the more the fascinated moppets become set on chasing him.

Once, when were in the mall, a daddy turned beet red with embarrassment and actually apologized to me as he helplessly watched his toddler daughter incessantly pursue my panicked munchkin round and round endless racks of children's clothing.

It is the kind of amusing situation I've become quite used to.

However, as accepting as I think I have become of the fact that my miniature man has an undeniable charisma that lures diminutive dames like moth to a flame, I was still caught unprepared for this series of paparazzi-style photos that were snapped at his playschool . . .

Now, I am certain that the above pictures of Niccolo and his adorable classmate Andie were creatively orchestrated by their overzealous matchmaking nannies so that their resulting poses are more than a tad contrived.

Yet, my heart skipped a beat and I found myself getting ridiculously sentimental at the thought of my darling tot growing up and - it truly pains me to say it - getting a girlfriend.

When I showed the images to my husband, all he said was: "Wait til he's a teen-ager!"

Heavens!

I sure can wait.