Monday, 23 July 2012

The True Value of Friendship

The day began well. Motivation was at it's highest and we enjoyed games, books and other such wholesome fun for the morning.

The trouble began when we took a trip to the park with our friends. (And I am SO very glad they are friends and know us well).

Max always struggles at the beginning of the school holidays. Our normal routine is thrown out of the window. He has to rediscover toys and games that he hasn't played with all term time. He's with me. And we are so alike that sometimes we clash, badly.

Every little thing that I did or suggested was wrong in Max's eyes. I hadn't taken acceptable food for the picnic. Apparently he doesn't like apples. When I reminded him that he has them every day after school, he told me he only likes them sliced up on top of crackers. Of course, silly me. In the blazing hot sun (how kind of the sun to make it's appearance on the first day of the holidays), he refused to wear his cap. I knew he was waiting, just biding his time, ready for a fight to triumph all the other little fights we were having. I was ready.

And it's a good job too. As we were preparing to leave, Toby helpfully threw a 'rock' at Max. It was wrong, of course. Max, however, took this as his opportunity to become the all-tired one. So tired, in fact, that he was unable to even collect his bike and walk to the car with it. Everyone else managed to ride their bikes over to my lovely, patient friend's car (well, 'bus', and if you know her you will now know who I am writing about). They all piled in and waited. And waited. And waited.

I strode back to find Max with all the defiance of a militant dictator to collect Max and bike. Max, without an audience, had managed to summon up enough energy to sit on his bike and slowly ride it. All his energy, however, escaped quickly out of his body when he turned and saw me and he immediately slithered to the ground as though he had been shot.

"I'm too tired!" He wailed.
"Pick up your bike and walk to the car, Max" I answered.
"I can't! It's not that I don't want to Mum, it's that I actually can't!" He continued to holler.
"Why can't you?" I asked
"Because I don't want to!"

Well. That was enough for me. Breathing deeply and slowly, I picked up his bike and told him to get up and walk to the car. I pushed the bike back to the car myself and then waited. And waited. And waited.

Eventually, over the brow of the hill we saw a forlorn, red t-shirted creature, crawling on his hands and knees towards the car. With dirty tear streaks down his face, and knees so grubby you could write your name in them, Max crawled his way slowly and dramatically towards the car. As he saw us watching, he slowed down even more just for further effect. It was a sight to behold, and a lovely start to the summer holidays.

How glad I am for friends who know me and accept me. Thank you, my friend for standing with me under such trials. You know who you are. Today, we made another memory together to laugh about in a few years time (but not now, it's still rather raw).

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