He's my friend, he's not my friend

We knew it was going to be a crazy day. I don’t normally go to our Saturday afternoon kids program every week (I need a break sometimes, too). But we’ve had some, shall we say “overly energetic” kids attending and they have been challenging to handle. So today I’ve come to see what we can do about this. We read a few brief articles with pointers on dealing with ADHD kids, all of them say they constant supervision/attention is good. That’s just the thing we can’t offer everyone, especially with 4 overly energetic boys out of a group of 12. .

The afternoon starts off with an interesting version of baseball, the rules quickly fall by the wayside. Up next is a confusing game of capture the flag. Next, freeze tag. This one was a winner! It gave the kids an excuse to run in random patterns and scream at the top of their lungs, if they so chose. Ok, they seem a bit tired now. Perfect time to go inside and start our bible story, we thought to ourselves. And so, one by one the little ones go inside and sit down. Except for one, let’s just call him Petey. Petey is about 7 years old. He’s wearing dirty clothes, has a semi-shaved head and has a mouth filled with silver fillings. Petey doesn't want to go inside. One of our volunteers was valiantly trying to convince him to go inside but Petey wasn’t having any of it. So I send the volunteer inside with the others and decided to take my chances with Petey.

I try to make it fun: “I’ll race you inside, first one to sit down at a chair wins!” Nope. I spoke to the fun time we’d have singing songs afterwards. Nada. I tried to compromise with him: “If you go inside now, we can play tag at the end!” Zilch. This kid is harder to crack than a bank vault in a spy film.  I quickly realize that this little boy has more life experience than most 7 year olds. I need to talk to him like an adult, not a kid.So then I cut the small talk. “What’s wrong?” I ask him desperately. Petey doesn't look at me and jumps from the cement ramp onto the flower bed nestled in the corner of the building. So I do what any rational adult would do: I follow him into the dirt. Here we are, squatting in the middle of a sparse bed of flowers. Alone. Safe. I ask him again, “What’s wrong?” He studiously avoids eye contact when I ask the question and finally mumbles that his brother had hit him when we were playing freeze tag. I ask him if it hurts. Petey nods his head. I ask him if I can see where it hurts, he shakes his head no. I ask him if we can go inside and sing, “I don’t want to sing”, he replies. “Ok, you don’t have to sing. That’s ok. But we do have to go inside with everyone else,”  I respond. Petey doesn’t even budge. But then he does something surprising. He grabs a daisy and starts picking off its petals. Inspiration strikes me like a thunderbolt. “Hey Petey, can I show you a game?” He looks at me with suspicious eyes, “Game?” I proceed to show him how to play the childhood game “He loves me, he loves me not.” But for him, I feel the need to change the words to “he’s my friend, he’s not my friend.” I’m not sure if that’s better, but  I don't have a lot to work with. He plays one round. I play one round. He grabs another flower and we play again. Finally I ask him if we can go inside. "Not yet," he says and then he grabs some more flowers, “2 for you, and 2 for me” he proudly says. I’m surprised at his generosity and sense of fairness. Before we start, I tell him I’ll only play if he promises to go inside with me and sit down. He agrees. I’m not convinced, so I make him agree to the most sacred of oathes: The Pinky Swear. He grabs my pinky in agreement. 

Petey kept his promise. We went inside and sat on a piano bench, on the outskirts of the group. I wish I could say that he sat still and listened attentively for the duration of the Bible story. I wish I could say that I had the bright idea to bring up Jesus always loving him as a way to end the He loves me, he loves me not game. That idea only came afterwards.  I had to hug him and hold him tight for a good portion of the Bible story. He did however, do a pretty good job of at least staying quiet, or whispering. At least, he tried to. For me, that was a win. Next time when I see him, I’ll know I’ll inevitably repeat to myself, he’s my friend, he’s not my friend,  but I think we’re well on our way towards being friends.

Quote for today: " Children are likely to live up to what you believe of them." 

-Lady Bird Johnson 

Prunes, over and out.