My youngest child, my wonderful Buddy Boy, is eight years old today. He’s dynamic, funny, kind to a fault, and extremely cool. A cloud of friends materializes wherever he goes, because he’s so genuinely fun to be around and so welcoming to everyone.
A funny thing about Buddy: He has gobs of friends (and he refers to every single one as his “best friend”), and when I watch them play, they’re all so natural that I assumed the other kids were much like him in this regard. But when I talk to their parents, I was surprised when a substantial number of them told me that Buddy is their kid’s only friend. That their kid was maybe shy or struggled to connect with other kids for one reason or another. Whatever that reason might be, Buddy doesn’t see it – he just sees best friends.
That makes me so, so proud of him. When I was his age, I wasn’t Buddy – I was the other kid. I was 13 before I made a friend that wasn’t already related to me by blood. If Buddy was just popular, that would make me feel relieved, but the pride comes from the fact that he pulls in every shy kid to his group, gets them all together, and gives them each other, too.
Happy Birthday to the Best Buddy!
The Opportunity Machine 