The first friend Alexander made on purpose was at the playground. The friend's name was Marshall.
His name alone was portentious, the sort of thing one might expect in a novel, and we didn't even discover it until his mom called him to go home for snack. Marshall also happens to be the name of the man who determinedly introduced me to my husband (Brian declined to meet me on several occasions) and is Xander's godfather. Obviously, Marshalls play no small role in our life. In fact, the homily at our wedding was even about Marshall and his plan. I'm not sure, but Marshall may have been compared to God. . .
The Marshall at the playground, however, was energetic, kind, and four years old. Alexander thought he hung the moon. Xander watched from afar as Marshall led a wild band of preschoolers up and down the playground equipment, each child brandishing a branch as a weapon. Once the older children left, Marshall sought Alexander's company. Alexander, ever socially savvy, did not betray how starstruck he was to have this big kid's attention. (I'm more than a little worried that Alexander's social smoothness predicts future school popularity, a sticky web of drama, betrayal, and heartbreak that I thoroughly opted out of for my entire educational career and thus for which I have no parenting preparation.)
While Marshall chatted with me, he also lovingly minded Alexander: holding his hand while he went up a step, bracing his back as he was in danger of pitching backward, showing him how to crawl through an especially long and scary tunnel. Alexander, for his part, ran after Marshall excitedly, watched eagerly as he jumped, ducked, and swung--all things Xander can't wait to accomplish--and babbled incoherently but pleasantly about what a nice time he was having.
Even though Alexander offered no meaningful conversation or physical challenge to the interaction, an endearing if fleeting friendship had clearly sprung up between the two boys. Alexander marveled at everything the bigger boy could do; Marshall, I can only imagine, enjoyed having someone so obviously in awe of his accomplishments and for whom he could care. (Everyone likes a protege, after all.) This temporary, afternoon-at-the-playground friendship is a hallmark of childhood and I quietly celebrated it as heralding the dawn of Xander's social consciousness. I am also relieved that he has any sort of social consciousness; I was the child who hoped desperately that no one would come to play with me and if some foolhardy child tried, I was apt to smack them. (I in all honesty walloped a classmate upside the head (with a toy pot!) in kindergarten for her brazen assumption that she could join me in the play kitchen. She later went to a school for gifted children, so I take comfort in knowing I caused no lasting damage.)
But back to my son. (The blog really is about him, I swear.) He apparently was such a good playmate that before leaving, Marshall gave him a sweet kiss on the head. Alexander squealed in excitement. (Once Marshall was out of earshot, naturally. I told you: socially savvy.) A similar situation played itself out this afternoon on a playplace at Midwestern mall: Alexander, despite a complete lack of linguistic skills, became fast friends with a three-and-a-half year old boy who was there with his grandmother. Interestingly, this little boy had a younger sister much closer to Xander's age; she was eleven months. Alexander ignored her like one might a crack in the wall.
He has a history of turning a blind eye to children his own age. One of my dear friends has a son a mere three weeks younger than Xander. While Xander is well enough acquainted with this little boy to play with him on occasion, he also consistently treats him as he does much younger children, patting him on the head and pushing him thoughtlessly aside. Already, Alexander has expressed a clear qualification for his playmates: size. He wants a playmate that he can match, stride for stride, who won't fall over when Xander gives him a push--who even may push back or use words to protest. Alexander wants someone with similar energy (boundless) who will challenge him. As a very active and very physically advanced thirteen-month-old, Xander has to look to a higher age bracket.
Big Baby Truism #3: A good playmate his hard to find.
Might Alexander have similar taste in playmates if he weren't so big? Possibly. Would older kids give him the time of day if he were of typical size? I venture to say no. Even though preschoolers can clearly tell that Xander is, in their words, a baby, the fact that he can and wants to do many of the things they do makes him more appealing. Plus, kids this age love to try to teach others what they already know. Alexander is a willing student and the older ones don't feel as worried about hurting him. Even though I have heard many moms of these older kids warning, "Watch out for the baby!" when play gets rough, the kids all pragmatically assess that Xander is not nearly as breakable as the smaller (though similarly aged) babies crawling and toddling about. The big baby dilemma is that other children of the same age are not necessarily a good physical match for a big baby--especially a coordinated and gregarious big baby.
I am on constant alert when Xander is socializing with kids his own age. Even a gentle nudge such as the other children give each other constantly is much more powerful and devastating, even when all Xander means is a nonverbal, "I want to get through here." His size also connotes aggression and anger to the other moms. (A whole separate truism, to be sure.) Bigger, older kids remove Alexander's physical advantage.
The downside, of course, is that Xander can only offer so much to a playmate two or three years older than himself. He can't talk. He has no concept of imaginative play. He is not going to teach the child anything new. And playing with his own peer group is, of course, important; children his own age are going to be his primary source of friendship and company for most of his childhood, so he needs to know how to interact with them. Parents pose another interesting obstacle. Many are hesitant to allow their children to play with a child of Xander's size because they fear for their child's safety. Also, they are often put off by Xander's appearance--he looks like a one-year-old but he's so. . .BIG. They aren't sure how to categorize him and it makes them nervous. I can't tell you how many twitchy mothers have asked me, "So. . .how old is he?" as though nervous about how I might answer. ("Six months!" I imagine myself saying, cruelly, just to watch her eyes bug out.)
And I feel for Xander. Play is work for children, we are always told (though pleasurable work, to be sure). Play with children his age is an extra measure of work for Alexander because he has to use extra caution: don't move too fast, touch too hard, or raise a hand (even in triumph--other mothers faint. That Godzilla of a child is going to TKO my son!). I think at least one reason he enjoys older kids is that so many restrictions are removed. For once, the other child is the one taking an extra measure of care.
All children can benefit from a variety of playmates, but big babies need them without question. Since a larger-than-average child is a curiosity, hopefully potential friends will abound. Thankfully for me and for Alexander, kids are much less critical and suspicious than their parents. The title of this entry occurred in the church nursery, where a toddler, realistically assessing Xander's size, declared he was not a baby. But she didn't mind. It's a good example to follow.
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