Andy's Friends!

Andy is a social butterfly.  I'm not sure where he gets it from, as Chris and I were initially drawn to each other out of a shared dislike for others.  "People?  They're the worst," we've been known to mutter to each other, snapping shut our living room curtains.  Sometimes we watch "House Hunters," where prospective home buyers talk about needing a home with a good space for "entertaining."  Chris and I, our main goal in purchasing a home was to find a home without ANY entertaining space, a house with an uncomfortably small dining area and a dark, tiny family room that could fit precisely one sofa and a large television at which to aim it.

Anyway, Andy loves people.  He gets ridiculously excited around other children and is very quick to inject himself into the activities of other kids.  He will insert himself into the organized lines of day cares, preschools, and church groups of which we have no affiliation.  If two siblings at the library are quietly reading together on the floor, Andy will plop himself down between them and start tickling them.  At the playground, Andy plays with the other kids whether they like it or not, giving them no choice but to include him as he initiates a game of chase.  Every child is Andy's friend, and they don't have a say in the matter.

Andy waves and calls out hello to every child he sees, even if they are but a distant dot way down the block.  I've noticed, as well, that he's started to introduce himself to other children and make small talk in his own little way.  We were at the neighborhood park last week, and at first we were the only ones there.  This is often the case- seriously, where are the goddamn children?  I know there are kids in the neighborhood- how come no one's ever at the park?  Children of Volo, we need you.  Come play!

On this particular day, Andy was trying his best to entertain himself and failing miserably.  I was sitting on the bench trying to shade Alex from the bright sun (sorry, little dude), when two kids and their mothers started heading down the block toward us.  Andy spotted these children and ran up to the fence, pressing his face against the bars and hopefully calling out hello while giving his pathetic come-love-me wave.  When the children got closer and made it clear that they were actually coming TO the park as opposed to just walking PAST it on their way to some party that Andy couldn't weasel his way into, Andy just about threw a parade.  He started squealing with delight, jumping up and down and shouting something that sounded vaguely like "Hooray!"  And then he screamed out, "Andy!  Andy!  Andy... Andy daddy, big choo-choo!"  He was telling the kids his name and then, desperately, telling them something about himself- that his father had driven him to the airport earlier that week where Andy had taken a ride on the train from the remote parking lot to the international terminal. And back!  That was truly THE best day of Andy's life.  It's been a week, and Andy is still talking about the airplanes and the choo-choo.  Best two dollars Chris ever spent on Andy.  Unless you cost the price of gas from our house to O'Hare and back- then it's more like, best twenty bucks.  Still worth it.

The kids were a little older and didn't acknowledge Andy's introduction or his attempt at starting a conversation involving fathers and trains.  No matter, this didn't slow Andy down.  The two kids started playing by themselves at one end of the park, and Andy ran right up to them, observing for a moment what they were doing.  They were throwing wood chips, of course.  On the rare occasion other kids are at the park, they're either throwing wood chips or smoking cigarettes.  What has happened to the youth of America?  Anyway, Andy got the hang of the game after a few seconds (pick up wood chips, throw them on the slide, repeat), and he joined in, giggling with merriment and having instant fun.  There was Andy, making and playing with new "friends" despite the kids' relative lack of interest of him.  Meanwhile, I remained on my bench with Alex, doing my best to avoid eye contact with the other mothers who had showed up.  That's the last thing I need, to be talking to a bunch of mothers.  Ugh.

Andy talks about his friends all the time.  He asks constantly for Jovie.  If he sees Lily's house from the front window, he starts moaning for Lily.  He still asks for Bobby from day care, and he babbles incessantly about the friends from the park.  My sister-in-law had Andy sleep over with her other nephew Payton, and I had to hear Andy asking for Payton for three straight days afterwards.  Andy's had his friend Aiden over to play a couple times, and every time Aiden leaves, Andy acts like it's the last time he will ever see another human being ever again.  The tears.  The tantrums.  THE HUMANITY.

Andy knows that when people come over, they come through the front door, and that if he looks out the front window, he can see people approaching our house.  He has taken to randomly looking out at that front window and forlornly asking, "Where are they?"  The "they" in this question is not anybody in particular.  The "they" simply refers to any generic friend who may enter our home and either shower Andy with love, affection, and gifts (adult friends) or smack him in the face with his own toys (child friends).  Getting smacked in the face still counts as having fun with friends, by the way.  Oh, to be Andy.

It's a good thing that Andy is so social and loves having friends.  I think it would be wonderful if Andy were to grow up surrounded by huge circles of friends and have a full social calendar along with the kind of house suited for "entertaining."  If that's the kind of person Andy grows up to be, I will be very happy for him.  After all, there's still hope for Alex.