Photo credit: Dunechaser / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA
My five year old son has tons of friends. Part of the reason why he is so blessed is because he calls anyone he likes, plays with, talks to, or looks at his friend.
“My friend is digging a hole to bury Darth Vader in,” Jett mentions as we leave the park.
“Which friend is that? What is his name?”
“I don’t know his name. He is just my friend.” Looking at me like I don’t know what friend means.
The look might be justified. Maybe as we grow older we forget what a friend is. I can’t tell you how many people have questioned me about my friendships. I am/used to be friends with some pretty famous people. Other “friends” would always say things like, “you’re not really friends with so-and-so. Just because you met someone does not mean that they are your friend.” I would counter, “Well, I’m invited to their wedding next month. What does that make me paparazzi?” Continue reading
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