All we need to know, we should have learned in kindergarten

I am often fascinated by how easily children, boys especially, can get together and play.

It's as though all they say is "I'm a kid, you're a kid. Great, we have so much in common. Now let's go tussle out back".

A couple of years ago, I got back in touch with a university friend. We had been quite close during our undergrad years, but then drifted apart and lost touch with each other subsequently.

Upon our reunion, we discovered that our sons were about four months apart in age so we arranged an impromptu playdate. Without consulting her son, we arrived at her house with my eldest guy in tow. We discovered her son in the basement playing basketball by himself. As we stood awkwardly in the doorway watching him, my friend made the introductions, during which time our sons remained completely silent.

While my friend started chattering about how we had been best friends for years, her son suddenly bounce passed the ball to my son who, without missing a beat, caught it, entered the room, shot the ball and then bounce passed it back. Immediately, they fell into a rhythm of taking shots on net and passing the ball back to the other. All this went on wordlessly for several minutes. My friend and I watched this, shrugged our shoulders and went upstairs for a cup of coffee, leaving our children to their own devices.

I'm not sure at what point one of them finally spoke, and what was said exactly. But the two boys got on like a house on fire and hours later when they emerged from the basement, they were giggling and chatting as though they'd always known each other.

I've observed this kind of easy acceptance and camaraderie amongst other children on many occasions, and I'm constantly amazed by it. Many adults tend to complicate things in that they spend more time and energy sizing each other up and deciding if another person is the right gender, religion, personality type, intelligence level, etc. before they can decide if they want to go forward and extend any kind of friendship or friendly gesture.

Maybe we need to take a leaf out of our children's books and just learn to relax.

Copycat

Have any of you ever seen the movie Single White Female? It's about a woman who advertises for a roommate. Said roommate turns out to have a few screws loose, fixates upon the woman and ultimately tries to get rid of everyone important in her life so as to have an exclusive and close relationship. At one point, the deranged roommate from hell deliberately tries to look and dress just like the object of her obsession.

There is a young woman who used to teach my eldest son a couple of years ago. She is on the verge of turning thirty and is in all respects a very attractive person. For whatever reason, she has always liked me and my family, and that feeling has been mutually reciprocated.

A couple of weeks ago, she approached me and commented favourably on the outfit I was wearing. Among her gushing comments was the confession that she felt herself to be a "safe dresser" while she perceived me to be edgy and willing to take risks in the fashion arena. I suppose in a sea of Lulu Lemon clad women gingerly clutching Starbucks coffee cups so as not to ruin their French manicures, I might appear a little different, bur I'm hardly way out there.

Last week, the teacher sidled up to me in the courtyard and started fishing for compliments with regards to her outfit. I couldn't help but think that her ensemble seemed like an attempt to recreate the look that I'd had the week before, especially since her opening line was "I'm trying really hard to be a little edgier today". I complimented her nevertheless and said that as always, she looked wonderful.

On Friday of last week, I was dressed fairly conservatively as I'd been meeting with new clients. Still, my outfit had a bit of punch in that my skirt was of an unusual shape and was a beautiful shade of hot pink. That afternoon, the same teacher approached me, complimented me yet again on my look. She then went on to say that she had the exact same skirt and that she was "taking notes on my outfit".

Yesterday, as I entered the courtyard to pick up my children, I did a double take. Standing about twenty feet from me was the teacher clad in a virtually identical outfit as I had been wearing on Friday.

It's funny. That kind of thing always happened in high school. In every high school, I think there is always at least one girl who has a certain je ne sais quoi about her. Hand in hand with that girl is at least one friend who is mildly adoring and wants to be like her in every respect possible. Generally, that desire to emulate is expressed in terms of clothing. But for whatever reason, the obsessor can never quite pull it off.

During the summer, I was sitting in a coffee shop one day when in strolled these two young girls. They were probably about fifteen years old and they had that I-am-the-cat's-pyjamas-confidence that only a young teen can possess. I had to stifle a giggle watching them as they were dressed virtually identically in brown tank tops, fashionably frayed jean minis, flip flops and clutch purses. But even though they were fashion's answer to the Bobsey Twins, it was still obvious who was the trendsetter and who was the follower. I wanted to shake the second girl and say "What are you doing? Why do you want to be a clone? Wouldn't you rather be unique?"

I'm way past my high school years, but I have to admit that it does bother me to have a clone out there. It must be genetic because my daughter, who expresses herself by her own completely creative and unique sense of fashion, gets upset if anyone copies her.

Update: This afternoon when picking up my children, I was approached yet again by the teacher who asked where I got a particular item of clothing I was wearing today. She said that coincidentally she had just been flipping through a magazine this afternoon and had wanted to create the very same look I was sporting. Wondering if this means that tomorrow I will be greeted with a version of myself?

Tales from the fifth grade

Can't think,
Brain dumb,
Inspiration won't come.
Bum pen,
No ink,
Best wishes,
Amen.

That little rhymer was scribbled into my grade school autograph books on numerous occasions by various classmates.

In the third grade, the teasing began:

Not because you're dirty,
Not because you're clean,
But because you kissed a boy
Behind a magazine.

As we got older, the rhymes would take on a more lewd tone (at a third grade level, that is):

She offered her honour,
He honoured her offer,
And all night long,
He was on her and off her.

We tee-hee'd over that one, thinking we were so bad.

I haven't a clue why we persisted year after year, in ceremoniously making the rounds of the class in order to get each person's John Henry. We were very much a community school; there wasn't a single classmate that didn't walk to and from school. The day after school ended and every day during the summer, we would find each other at the neighbourhood public pool, so the point of bidding each other "adieu" in our Mickey Mouse autograph books was fairly pointless. I guess the idea was to hold onto the books on the off chance that one of our classmates would become a famous porn star or politician or both and then we'd have some priceless memorabilia. Unfortunately, i am the child of two completely unsentimental people who are the absolute anti-thesis of pack rats. Sigh ...

Bittersweet

Today was the first day of school. My youngest child began grade one. There are just way too many emotions to sort through.

I have a big lump in my throat.