Friendship & Claire’s Dilemma

So today, a really busy day for me at the gym, I went to the restroom, to the first stall, because it is the only adult sized commode in the Girls’ Restroom.  

When I emerged, my friends Cate & Claire (aged four, almost five, & six, respectively) were at the sinks.  Cate washing her hands with Claire watching.   

Claire & I had exchanged greetings earlier & her response to my question about her day at kindergarten was “Fine.” 

As I was washing my hands,  Cate greeted me & I commented that she had been asleep when she arrived.  We bantered a bit about naps & how much better one feels after them.

Then, as I was walking down the very short hall, I heard a voice say:

                    Miss Jaki?

It was Claire, whose day at kindergarten was fine.  So I asked:

                    Do you need something?

And then she began to talk about really happened at kindergarten that day.

                    Well, today a friend of mine at school said something really mean to me.

  

When I asked what her friend had said, she replied:

  

                 She whispered it, so the teacher couldn’t hear & she said that she did not want to be my friend.

I asked her how she responded & she said:  I cried.  

This is something I can understand – I remember the first time I learned, brutally, that someone I liked did not like me. 

Of course, I was 17, not 6. And I did not cry.

We talked at length, about the nature of friendship & why her friend would turn on her. 

 It was an amazing conversation – it finally came out that Claire had worked it out.

Her friend was best friends with another girl & Claire had made friends with the other girl & perhaps, Claire posited, that was the problem.

Six years old.

It occurred to me this evening, that there is a reason that God gave me sons.  I used to think it was revenge.  I now know that I would have lost my mind with daughters.

Boys are different.

Nick once had a friend who decided he was not a friend.  

Because Nick was a really big guy at an early age, I told him that because he was larger than the average bear, he could not pick on  a smaller kid.

 

This kid was smaller – he tormented Nick at school & in the neighborhood – I had meetings with the school.  The response was lukewarm.  I talked to the parents.  They were supportive, but the kid continued.

When the kid began to throw rocks into the spokes of Nick’s very fine new bicycle (gift from Daddy), I said:

                    This is the deal, Nick.  You are going to have to take him out – not on school grounds.  But the next time he does something, you are doing to have to beat him up.

As I write this, I am thinking, I tell Claire to wait it out & maybe her friend will change her mind.

But I told my son to beat the shit out of the kid tormenting him.

Days later, after I advised Nick, there was an incident in a public space.  The kid spit on him.   

(Who spits on another human being?????????????)   I have an obsession about spitting – I cannot stand it.  I once screamed at the Houston Livestock Rodeo when a schoolmate spit next to me.  It is just gross.  No doubt I passed it on to Nick.

But REALLY, who spits?

So Nick tackled that kid .  He did not do him grievous harm.  He just made his position clear.  There was never a problem after that.

So why was the answer so easy for Nick & not for Claire?