Callum's best friends are two brothers who live on our street. One is just his age and will be in his grade next year at the new school, and the other is two years older. Somehow, they manage to make this friendship, with varied ages, work splendidly. It has been a summer of three. Callum over there playing Wii or World Cup Soccer outside, or them here, playing Wii and FIFA World Cup for Wii inside. Callum's days are organized around these two. How soon he can get over there once he's up in the morning. How soon he can get back to them if we go out. They've been here all day, playing Callum's new World Cup soccer game. I've been cleaning out the Blue Rain Room, and I can hear their shouts and laughter all the way upstairs. When one of them scores they take a lap around the new circuit of the house that our remodeled pantry has created, big boy footsteps thudding. Callum made sandwiches for lunch for everyone, and I happily cleaned up the detritus when they bolted back outside.
Of course as I typed this, they got in their first "fight" of the summer. Some boys storming off and one boy in tears. Callum would handle this better if he had a brother, I think. Would better understand that arguments are part of friendships. They took a little breather, and it typical boy fashion, they were soon back in front of the Wii as if it never happened.
It's bittersweet for me, of course. Watching this boy who used to need only us be shaped by deepening friendships. Especially bitter when he's hurting. But it's mostly sweet as I see him rush out the door to be with his friends, as anxious to be together as if he hadn't played soccer with them until after dark the night before.