Katherine has always been a social creature, wanting beyond want to Do Things With Other People. Not that she isn’t capable of watching TV or other solitary passtimes, it’s just that, given her druthers, she’druther be playing with other people.
Adults are fine for this, by the way, and that we have a bunch of friends who go above and beyond in keeping her happy is something we’re blessed with.
But over the last few weeks, the desire to Play with Other Kids has reached a fever pitch. Whether it’s 7 a.m. or 7 p.m., or Noon or Midnight, it’s, “Can I go over to Abbey’s house? Or, if she’s not home, go over to Lauren’s house? And if they’re not here, then I’ll come right back home.”
Abbey is several months older than Katherine, youngest of three sisters, and lives next-door. The girls there are all polite, and will sometimes play with Kitten, but fact is that Abbey, already in Kindergarten this year, prefers the company of her peers to a little 4-year-old coming over to play.
Lauren is Katherine’s age, or a scosh younger. She lives in the next house beyond Abbey’s, and is a target of opportunity because of her gender and her age. I don’t get the sense that the two of them actually get along that well together (in part because Katherine can be a bit insistent about the things she wants to do — a lesson in politeness, certainly as a guest, that she has to learn, and will no doubt learn painfully), but going to visit her beats the heck out of not doing so.
That neither Lauren nor Abbey comes over here to see if Katherine can play may be indicative, may be paranoia on my part, or may be a sign that our house is too messy for their parents. Yes, I worry about that.
Of course, in this day and age, actually finding kids home is a minor miracle. Families are out and about, it’s school time, of course, and extracurricular activities about. The era of all the kids in the neighborhood banding together to play after school each day has faded into a quaint past that only my peers seem to remember.
Too, we don’t want Katherine hallooing about the neighborhood when we’re going to have to track her down for dinner shortly. So there’s a fairly narrow window from the time I get her home to that time when she can go see if Abbey or Lauren can play. Of a mercy, she’s old enough to do so on her own (though I tend to hover in the front yard) and to come back if they are unavailable. Which, often, they are, provoking a downcast countenance and, in five minutes, a suggestion that she should go back over and see if they can play now.
And then there’s Jo-Jo, a little boy on the other side of us, who’s actually like two years old, max. Too young to play with Katherine, really, which doesn’t seem to faze her. And their house is for sale, which means Jo-Jo is bye-bye real soon now.
I hope another four-year-old girl moves in there. That would be nice. Or even just a hair younger. Katherine spends way too much time as the Youngest Kid in the Gang, and it would do her good to be in another social role.
At any rate, Margie and I tend to be more restrictive as to when Katherine can go over to Lauren or Abbey’s house than Katherine would like, which (a) prompts Wails of the Damned from our Kitten, and (b) makes us feel guilty and second-guess whether our own shyness and social reticence is Ruining Our Child’s Childhood.
And, of course, I worry that Katherine’s speech problems (which continue to be worked on down at the school) are going to get in the way of her relating to other kids.
I very much want Katherine to make friends, and I want her to be socially happy so much it puts knot in my throat and stomach to think of it.