The Age of Friends!

Our new house is conveniently located near the park.  It's right around the block, the perfect walking distance for one waddling mother, one overly confident four year old who wants to rule the world with a single twig, and one clumsy, two-left-footed two year old.  We've been going almost daily, right after our laughably loud quiet time comes to an end, and it's the perfect way to round out the afternoon.

This little boy just wants to make some friends.

The same group of junior high kids (I'm terrible with judging the ages of children; they could be college students for all I know) show up at about the same time we do. They do the kinds of things that older kids like to do.  Pee behind bushes.  Use swear words.  Loop the swings up over the top bar. They also engage in some game that utilizes the field right next to the park.  Being the star athlete I am, I'd like to say it's either touch football or Red Rover.  Not really sure.

Of course, Andy marched over to these kids the very first day we saw them, calling out a chipper "Hello!" and introducing himself with his full name, age, and a recent history of personal events.  We just moved here.  Mommy has a baby in her belly and it's a girl.  That's his little brother and he's kind of a weirdo.  He likes to play Red Rover/ touch football/ ice hockey too.  Can he play with them?

I let Andy's interactions go as far as I can let them before gently butting in and telling Andy to leave the kids alone.  Sometimes I let it go a little further than I should since I'm wrapped up explaining to Alex why he can't touch that man's ball, as in yesterday when Alex kept roaring, "I want to touch that man's ball!"  The man in question had a semi-deflated volleyball that Alex wanted to take ownership of.  I tried to get Alex to insert the word "volley" between man and ball, but he blatantly ignored me.

There reached a point yesterday when I noticed Andy essentially pestering the older kids, announcing that he wanted to play their game too.  It was a situation in which I felt equal parts pity and annoyance.  Of course Andy just wants to play with them.  They're his *friends*.  But, man, Andy. Read the room.  They were being kind to him, but I finally had to drag Andy away and spell it out as coldly as I could.

"Andy, you can't play with them.  They're too old for you.  You have to play with kids your own age."

"But I know them!  They're my friends."

"Andy."  Pause.  "They don't want to play with you."  Even I winced at this brutal statement.

"Why not?"

"You're too little.  You can't run as fast.  You might get hurt.  Listen, Andy.  You have to play with kids your own age.  Like, four year olds, five year olds, and six year olds."

He let this soak in for a second.  As he did, another kid came cruising up on his bike, hopping off just as Andy ran up to him and blurted out, "Hello!  My name is Andy.  I'm four and a half.  What's your name?  How old are you???"

The kid replied, uncomfortably, "Ethan.  Eleven."

Andy whipped his head around to me.  "Is eleven okay?"

To which I laughed and said, "Nope!  Too old.  Sorry."

And so the eleven year old loped off, confused, and Andy listlessly waited around for a four through six year old to show up.  Eventually one did, with a box of crackers.  Andy and Alex proceeded to eat all of his crackers.  So on that particular day, the park visit ended semi-successfully.