Magic

I am not sure how obvious this is to people who have read about my children, but my six year old is kind of...special. In a number of ways. I am still trying to figure out if this is something that will help or hinder him in later life, but it is becoming more and more clear to me that C has a great many more anxieties than your average six year old. I am trying my damndest not to pathologize the little guy, while still maintaining an open mind about getting him the help he needs to cope with his uniqueness. And fortunately (or un, depending on how you look at it) I seem to have a lot of people in my life who I love who also have one anxiety disorder or another...so I get a lot of insight from them, even when they aren't communicating it directly.

At any rate, lately there have been a few incidents where C has had actual mini anxiety attacks. They seem to be happening most often when I am not around, and thankfully my friend who cares for C in the evenings is one of my friends who deals with anxiety of her own, so she knows exactly what to do when it happens. Calm voice, back rub, etc. And he usually calms down.

The other day, I heard him arguing with his friend who he goes to childcare with. Evidently, his friend has been playing with other kiddos more and more, and C was displeased with this. C said something somewhat threatening to his friend, and I had to remind C that P could play with anyone he chooses to play with...and suggested some solutions for C to consider if P didn't want to play with him. I am really trying hard to not project what I know about social phobia on to little C, because he is only 6, and this could very well be a phase...but it seemed familiar to me.

At any rate, it was difficult to talk Coley down. He ended up not wanting to go to his childcare thingy after all, and I was stuck. It was the one day of the week that I absolutely *Have* to be at work at a specific time, because I have meetings at a specific time on that specific day. And Coley was not budging. And the more he didn't budge, the more furious I became (attempting, of course, to contain myself)...and of course the more fury he sensed in me, the less likely he was going to be to budge.

Finally, it broke. I don't know what I said or did to convince him...maybe it was just the sweltering heat in the car, but C begrudgingly decided to give in. As he was getting out of the car with his little shoulders drooping, crying about how he never makes any friends and no one loves him and life is really really BAD (keep in mind that this is a child who will swing from the depths of self-pitying sadness into the silliest giggles you have ever heard). I told him the only sincere thing I could say at that point, as I was not feeling very empathic as his mother. I said "Aw, bird...I wish I was 6 years old so I could be your best friend."

He brightened a bit at this thought. And then he remembered his actual best friend, S. He said to me "Mom...my best friend is THIRTEEN."

I smiled. The relationship he has with S., a very gentle, sweet, unique 13 year old girl is so amazing. They play together like children, but they have this weird, uncanny sort of lifetime-transcending understanding of one another. It's really one of the most precious relationships I have ever had the pleasure to witness. And as Coley thought about S, he seemed to cheer up, too.

"Mom," he said. "Wanna know why S. and I are best friends?"

"Why, my birdy bird?"

"Because we BOTH believe in MAGIC."

And that is bird. In a nutshell. He is dramatic and wise and happysad and generous and kind and creative and brooding and joyful and wiggly and wonderful and...well...magical.