Ladies Man

Milo, my six-year-old, has a little trouble making friends. Okay, a lot of trouble.

It’s not that he doesn’t have buddies. He does. But they are kids with whom he hasn’t had to work to earn favor. Kids like our neighbors. Who are just there. Ready to play. Kids like the sons and daughters of my moms’ group. Once again, present every Tuesday for him to joke around with at will.

At school, it’s a different story. He has to compete with naturally gregarious first graders. With children who are athletic, who brag about lost teeth, who play with Transformers and watch Star Wars.

None of this is Milo’s style. He’s quiet. He has a good throwing arm, but isn’t into the ball games that other boys play at recess. When he loses a tooth he keeps his mouth shut, a small, embarrassed smile playing across his face.

He finds Transformers and Star Wars too intense and violent.

Milo, as it turns out, seems to gravitate toward the girls. I know he would like to engage boys. And my mother’s heart breaks a little every time I see him veer toward a group of them, only to dodge away at the last minute. But girls, at this age, seem more empathetic. More willing to extend a hand to Milo and include him in their hopscotch.

I’ve taken to calling him Ladies’ Man, which makes him guffaw. But he accepts the label. Maybe even likes it a little.

Recently, he’s connected with a girl in his class named Mary. Despite already having her own circle of established friends, she sees the sparkle in Milo and has adopted him as her new best friend. Milo, for the first time ever, has invited someone—her–to eat lunch at his nut-free table. They play together at recess and talk about each other when they’re apart. They’re real friends. Good friends.

And my heart sings.