Last weekend Jay spent some time with a friend, a girl, a precocious kindergartener who a few months ago told me and Caroline, “It’s not good to want the things that other people want.”
It was Sunday, sunny, and we were in the park. Caroline and I were sitting with our friends on a picnic blanket. I could see Jay and his friend off in a far corner of the park kicking a soccer ball. After a minute, Jay, who can barely contain this side of himself, got rascally. He wouldn’t kick her the soccer ball, kept it all to himself, maybe said a teasing word. The girl retreated to a nearby bench, turned her back to Jay, pulled her knees to her chest.
Uh oh, I thought, what is he going to do now?
Jay approached her cautiously from the side, still holding the soccer ball. He leaned in. What could he possibly know to say? She turned even more decidedly away from him, and lowered her chin to her chest. Jay circled around to the other side of the bench. She turned away again. He circled back. Maybe he found the right thing to say. He sat down beside her and she didn’t turn away.
I watched this all from a distance, smiling and also a little sad to think about all the situations he’s going to bumble into in his life, and how sometimes or often he may not know how to get himself out of them.
Jay and his friend sat together for a minute, close on one side of the bench, their legs dangling below them. Then I saw him start to squirm, and recognized my old familiar son. He didn’t excuse himself, just started to run across the park toward me. I met him halfway. “I need to go pee,” he said. “I know,” I said. And we went looking for a tree.