Every day the same thing happens. I drop Archer off at school. He
kisses me, waves and scurries off to the playground. I watch him from
the window as he lands in the sand, looks around at the other children
and suddenly becomes shy. Quiet. A very different boy than the one I
see at home.
"Hi Archer," the other children say.
"Hi," Archer says back, kicking the dirt, looking down sheepishly.
I
watch him until my five-minutes of parking in a drop-off zone are up
and occasionally I cry because Archer's got that whole loner in the
trenchcoat thing going and it's heartbreaking to watch my child sit
alone, when the other children seem so happy to be together. I remember
how it felt, as a young child, to be shy. Overwhelmed by crowds of
children, I wandered aimlessly as well.
In the car, I
always remind myself that Archer's happy. He's glad to be at school and
on the playground even if he's playing alone. He's smiling. Always
smiling. No need for me to worry about my happy little child.
"Does Archer have any friends yet," I ask.
The
teacher always answers me in the same way. "All the children love
Archer. He's like everyone's little brother... We all adore him. He's a
gentle little soul..."
"But does he have a friend? Is there anyone in the class that he sits with or..."
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