On Friends

I promised myself that my next blog post would be on the ‘lighter’ side. An observation I’ve made in the last 9 years of parenting children is that they make friends in the darndest places. My step-son had an imaginary friend named John Radger. John Radger (always both names, never just “John” for short) lived in paintings on the wall. I’m not sure how he traveled between paintings, but that is where he lived. Dear daughter thinks everyone is her friend. I have been telling her that not every random person is her friend; that you have to at least know a person’s name before he or she can become your friend. Now, she walks up to kids at the park and says, “You’re not my friend yet… What’s your name… Oh, now you’re my friend.” I’m not sure she gets the idea… Baby J thinks every living thing is his friend. He seems to prefer small dogs and chickens. This is a pretty typical scenario if you let Baby J out into the backyard:

"Going to see my friends, going to see my friends... la la la la la... going to see my friends."

*squeal* "Hey guys!" *squeal*

"Jigsy! BoBo! How's it going?"

"Hey buddy! Hey buddy! Hey buddy! Give me five!"

"Hey, man, give me a kiss!"

"Hey, where'd you go? Was it something I said? Guess I'll see you around..."