On Saturday, fueled by the excitement of finally getting warm weather, Elliot was anxious to go to the playground with her friend, Gabriel.* She obsessed about it all morning: “We can’t forget to pick up Gabriel! Make sure we pick up Gabriel! We’re gonna have so much fun with Gabriel!” Finally, she wore us down and we wandered across the street to pick up Gabe. Much to Elliot’s dismay, he was in the middle of a long nap. We’d have to take another friend to the park.
We walked two doors down to see if Hannah, who is a year older than Elliot, wanted to play. She did. So did her older brother and sister. So Jay and I took five children to the park – Jay carried the baby, the two older children ran ahead, and Elliot and Hannah held hands and skipped along the way.
It started out well. Giant sandcastles were built. Swings were swung in. Bridges were crossed. Then, on the merry-go-round, things went awry. Hannah and her siblings are tall, skinny, athletic types. They shimmy up trees with the grace of a monkey. They easily perform flips on the bars, while Elliot hangs frozen in mid-air, afraid that any movement will lead to a fall and possible injury.
Elliot and Hannah tried to push the older children on the merry-go-round. Hannah ran so quickly it took Elliot’s breath away. It was impossible for her to keep up. She lost hold of the bar and fell, unintentionally rejected. Hannah continued to push faster than I’d seen most adults push, her brute strength and speed making me suspicious she was on performance-enhancing drugs. My girl ran toward me in tears. Hannah, noticing her friend’s distress, came to ask what was wrong. Elliot told her, “I want to push! I am very fast!” Hannah looked at her sympathetically, put her arms around Elliot’s shoulders and said, “You’re not so fast.”
While the three siblings continued playing games favored by those with great agility, coordination and speed, Elliot withdrew, as she often does, into quiet seated activities. Building. Observing. Reading.
Hannah and her siblings raced each other on the way home. Trying to redeem herself, Elliot joined in, attempting to run as fast as them. Then she fell. She struggled to stand, threw her renegade shoe back on and tried to catch up. But she never could. She lagged behind, unable to get close to winning the race. So slow that she couldn’t even be considered a contender. She gave up and walked slowly beside me, crying most of the way home.
Thinking about this episode in the evening, I was sad. I reflected back on my ill-informed decision to join the cross-country team in elementary school and always coming in last in races. I remembered spending recesses alone, observing the groups of playing children, wondering what social secret they had access to.
I wasn’t upset because the other children intentionally left mine out (which they didn’t – they are all so sweet and made every effort to include her, even coming back during the races to ask her to join them again). But because she was left out due to factors beyond her control – short, stubby legs not built for running. Not an ounce of grace. A personality more suited towards social, rather than physical endeavors.
Of course, the next day, the only person who remembered what happened was me. Hannah and Elliot ran across their front yards to greet each other. They held hands walking to Hannah’s house and shared picture books in her room.
Elliot calls every child she meets her friend. She is so young, and yet I already recognize in her a desperate need to belong. It breaks my heart that, if she is similar to me as a child, other children’s friendship may mean much more to her than to them. I fear that she may sell herself short and be embarrassingly grateful for other’s companionship.
I’m certain Elliot will be left out again. Her sensitive, intuitive little soul may be squashed momentarily by her inability to do something that comes so naturally to her friends. This is, of course, part of growing up. When she is old enough to understand it, I will take her in my arms and tell her that later in life, no one will care if you win a race, or if you even participate in them. That at some point she will find kindred spirits who will recognize and accept her strengths and talents. That her tender heart and ability to make people laugh will make people run toward, instead of away from her.
*Names of neighborhood children have been changed.
She sounds like she has a tender heart, which will take her further than athletic ability. She has a good mom, too, so she’s really lucky.
You have articulated the hurt in my heart…my girls are so sweetly naive. My eldest monkey-boo has an old soul that feels so much deeper than others her age, and when her best friend was away from school for a week, she just wandered around the school for the first few days because she was scared of being rejected if she tried to play with other kids. I ache for her just thinking of how badly she must have felt.
Obviously she is not going to be the sporty type … no problem! There are so many other things that I am sure she will be good at … painting, music, dancing. The world is her oyster and once she finds something that she enjoys doing, she will also gravitate to those kinds of kids, making new friends. She sounds a sweet little kid!
As you so clearly said – the next day the kids are fine and only the parents are still thinking about it. Yes, been there, done that and will probably do it even when my son is a grown man … we just can’t help ourselves.
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I admire your astuteness (erm, not sure if that’s an actual word or not, but pretend it is) in assessing your daughter’s situation. Recognizing this and preparing for it, even only mentally is a smart, sensitive thing to do. You’re a great mom Andi!
My son is 11 now, but from the time he was a toddler, he was the same way – always trying so hard, wanting to be liked. He STILL calls everyone his friend. And still my heart breaks when he gets left out, even unintentionally.
Oh, I get this. Even though I was the athletic type, I always felt it wasn’t enough. I was tall and lanky and so ungraceful. I see in Punky that he doesn’t have a lot of athleticism and I know this will be hard on the playground, no matter what. It’s like you want to take that pain away that you know is forthcoming, but you can’t. It’s so hard to know you can’t save them from everything.
I suspect that the V-meister, too, may not be “sportif.” Last week, when I came to pick her up from school, the other kids were pretty much running circles around her while the V-meister tried to negotiate the pedals of her tricycle.
But a year’s age difference is a big deal when you are three and four. Some things will balance out in the long run and, regardless, Elliot will find kindred spirits.
It’s so hard to see our kids go through this–so hard.
I feel so lucky to be ‘her friend’. She is like her Momma, everyone stops talking, turns and smiles as she walks into a room. Lighting up a room is one of her many great qualities. Racing is way too tireing!
My daughter came 10 years after my youngest son, she has always wanted to be a part of their group. They tolerate her for a little while but sooner or later she gets left out and she cries to momma. It is heart breaking to say the least, I try to comfort her, tell her that they are all dodo heads, she laughs and all is well.
But I worry, she is so tenderhearted and comes in from school broken hearted over someone not being her friend anymore, she wants everyone to be her friend and to be included in every thing. She is long legged but recieved her mother’s clumsiness, so she rarely wins the races, cue more tears. You can’t protect them from everything, but don’t you just want to?
She is lucky to have a great mom.
You know, one of these days she’s going to engage these long-legged swift friends in a game of Settlers of Catan or Scrabble, and she will cream them. They’ll still be friends, nonetheless.
I had a few friends who were total jocks, despite my obvious lack of talent in that domain. And no, I didn’t just do their homework for them!
It is so hard to see your children in situations you recognise from your youth. And as much as we’d like to make everything better, they have to go through the same things we did so they can become adults and find their place.
Still sucks, though.
Growing up can suck at times but she’s got your love and support and she has to find her own way. There’s nothing anyone can do to protect them from everything – if you accept her for who she is it won’t matter. We’ve all been there – T grew up and I grew out (on top) but we both know a true friendship when we see one.
Elliot will, unfortunately, but inevitably go through all the girlfriend crap that we have all endured. But she will be just fine, because she is head strong, delightful and funny. She will find some kindred spirits and she will find some bitches, and because she has such wonderful parents who have given her values, she’ll eventually figure out what a true friend is.We all have something unique that sets us apart from “the jocks” of the world, and Elliot will find it within herself.
Elliot is the greatest just the way she is. Tell her she can race me and I will probably lose. Great post by the way.
Oh, this post made me get a little misty. Thank goodness for sweet-souled little girls (like yours) and the mommies who love them (like you).
I got misty, too! Seriously, Andi, this post was so well-written I hope it is something you are submitting for publication. It’s so relateable (sp?) and insightful. I absolutely loved it. Maybe because I was always the last person picked for kickball.
As someone who was often picked last for teams — yes, athletic ability eludes me as well! — I know exactly what you were feeling. I worry about my girl as well, for the same reasons.
Painful subject, but you wrote about it so beautifully.
“That at some point she will find kindred spirits who will recognize and accept her strengths and talents.”
What you wrote there is so key. Beautiful post, Andi.
Reading this breaks my heart. I know she’ll be fine, but all children go through those times when they struggle, some more than others. I hope, like you, that she’ll recognize her talents and let those things she’s not as good at, glide right off of her.
Poor Eliot. I was that girl later, in high school, when it felt like it really, really mattered. But she’s got you and Jay and Arlo, and she’s too smart to let it upset her for long!
At least I hope she grows up without major scars from fickle friends. (that was me) Here’s hoping she’ll find a kindred spirit while she’s young!
BTW I tagged you!
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But physical strength and agility is only one attribute. I’ll bet Elliot will win other races as she grows; artistic, social, to name but two. And in my book, those are far more important than winning a foot race.
I only just realized that I did not comment on this post. I have actually have been thinking about it all week. Elliot is a remarkable child.
Which means if she is anything like you, she is going to be a remarkable adult.
Is it possible to hug you right now? Cause I am.
kindred souls: you and me.
i wrote about these feelings regarding pooka. i don’t think bug will care one whit.
Elliot can catch more shadows than GG but I still had fun.