My firstborn marches to his own drumbeat.
That beat can be quasi-erratic.
He loves to wax rhapsodic over skyscrapers, American presidents, the origin of the brussel sprout, and the optimal angle of trajectory when building a trebuchet.
By the way, discourse regarding the aforementioned can occur at any time, with little regard (or relevance, for that matter) to the subject at hand.
That’s just how he rolls.
My beloved Squash Blossom and I share many personality traits. He’s hot-tempered and impulsive. He’d rather read than play outside. He has a head full of factoids that will never come in handy unless he’s playing Trivial Pursuit. And, like me, he needs quiet space to regroup and recharge. One of the frequent comments that I get from teachers is, “He doesn’t have a lot of friends”, or, “At recess, he plays a lot by himself.” Every time I hear that, it makes me a little sad because his desire for solitude is sometimes misunderstood.
Poor kid. Surrounded in the womb, surrounded in the NICU, surrounded by siblings, surrounded by children in his overcrowded classroom…it’s a wonder he hasn’t wound up in a special room surrounded by padded walls.
Still, every mom wants her kids to have friends, and I’d be lying if I said my thoughts didn’t turn to him a thousand times a day wondering if he was having fun at school and if someone, anyone, appreciated him in all his quirky gloriousness (which I swear Mastercard ripped off in this commercial).
But this weekend, the following picture, taken by a friend of mine on a recent field trip, appeared on my Facebook page.
I saw a contentment in his face that I don’t think had anything to do with the $10 his mama had given him and had everything to do with the priceless friends that surrounded him.
That’s a happy little drummer boy.
And he has a happy mama.
Have a nice day.