When my son Avi was younger, he was a shy and quiet kid. As a baby, he’d never smile back at strangers, and instead would stare at them suspiciously from his stroller. When he was a toddler, I signed him up for gym class, and we spent the whole time holed up behind the gym equipment, peering out at the other kids having fun. At the playground, Avi kept to himself. Once he was digging in the sand and a little boy approached him and, before the kid could do or say anything,
Avi dropped his shovel and walked in the opposite direction, hoping to avoid a confrontation.
Really, he was a kid after my own heart. I, too, was sometimes more comfortable watching the world around me than engaging in it. But, still, it made me worry. I wanted him to have friends.
As Avi got older, he became more social, and even had a few fleeting friendships in preschool. But unlike his 3-year-old sister, he never asked for play dates. He was happy in his own company at home.
Then, he met Eli.
I had a best friend growing up (who, 30 years later, is still my best friend) so I have a special place in my heart for fledgling elementary school relationships and their potential. I can now say that watching such a friendship take shape is just as beautiful as being in one.
The first time Avi had Eli over, I got teary-eyed. I watched them huddle with their heads bowed together in concentration as they navigated Avi’s favorite wizard-themed board game. I listened from the other room as they took turns rolling the dice, quietly giggling and encouraging each other. This was not what I was expecting.
Based on previous play dates, I was ready to intervene over the inevitable crying or complaining over something being unfair, or a rule being broken, or because one person wanted to play something different. But that never happened. Not only was this the easiest play date ever—I actually got stuff done around the house—but here was a boy who, like Avi, sometimes preferred the quiet of a board game to a rambunctious game of chase. And here was Avi, being totally himself in the presence of another kid. Until now I felt like he interacted with other children by copying what they did—unsure of how to act around more outgoing kids. But here he was, sharing an activity he loved with a like-minded boy.
I remembered my own friendship with my best friend, Margaret, and how we spent long afternoons building forts, acting out skits, and playing cards. Watching Avi and Eli play so nicely with each other—and being so kind to one another—I felt like I was in the presence of Kindergarten soul mates.
Over the next year, their friendship grew. They were in the same class at school, played soccer together, and even did an overnight birthday party trip to Great Wolf Lodge. But it’s the lazy afternoons where they seem to have the most fun. Both science-lovers, they regale each other with facts about amphibians and meteorites. Once, Eli gifted Avi a geode and Avi in return gave Eli some of his treasured “Magic Treehouse” books. Left to their own devices, they concoct elaborate craft projects, the most recent one a conglomeration of string and tape solely meant to block Eli’s mom from the kitchen.
Of course, they have their differences. Eli is still more gregarious than Avi is. Avi doesn’t like vegetables, and Eli will eat beans. And they can definitely be rowdy together, especially when joining forces to terrorize their younger siblings. But even at their most rambunctious, there is a gentleness to their play. They always know when to press pause, to scale back when they feel themselves about to have a conflict.
Aside from his own family, Eli is the center of Avi’s world. I watch the self-confidence he has, knowing he can count on his friend. In big groups, they might go their separate ways, but they always know they can count on one another. Avi recently told me that during recess, they have a secret call so that if one of them becomes separated, they can find their way back to each other.
I don’t know if they’ll stay best friends forever. They could drift apart or one of our families could move away. But I know that whatever happens, their friendship will have helped them grow into the little people they’re supposed to be. I’m grateful to both of them for recognizing, in their own 6-year-old hearts, what it means to be a good friend.
Leah Black is a mother-of-two and the former executive editor of New York Family.
