Post-Modern Play Date

On Saturday night, Satchel came over to me and asked, “When is Five coming over again?”

Five is the nine-year-old son of one of my friends/fellow board member of Rock-n-Romp. The board meetings are usually at my house, and I always invite everyone’s kids to come along. However, Robby (Five’s dad) stepped down from the board this year, so Five hasn’t been over lately.

“Hmmm…I’m not sure,” I said. “Why?” I asked. “Do you want him to help you with one of your games?”

I remembered that on Five’s last visit, he revealed himself to be a master at Super Mario Galaxy. I also remembered that he seemed to enjoy playing with Satchel and my husband, Warren, overheard him say something like, “You should invite me over sometime.”

Satchel nodded and said, “Can Five come over tomorrow?”

I thought about it. Would a nine-year-old want to have a play date with an almost seven-year-old and his almost five-year-old brother? Would Five even want to play Super Mario Galaxy? (Mario Kart is the best game ever! And more than one person can play at a time.) Not to mention, would Robby think I was a loser if I invited him over just to play video games?

I checked with Warren to see if we had anything pressing happening on Sunday and then sent Robby a text: Satchel wants to know if Five can come over tomorrow to play Wii and go on a hike through Overton Park. (I figured adding a hike would balance out the Wii playing.) Then I held my breath.

Robby texted back: How about 11am?

I’m not sure who was more excited, me or Satchel. Actually, Jiro was pretty excited too. On Sunday morning he said, “I’m going to tell Five that Super Mario Galaxy is my game and not Satchel’s, but that it’s OK for him to play.”

“Okay,” I said, laughing at how he and Satchel keep track of who’s game is who’s when neither of them have ever spent a dime of their own money on any of them.

Then he added, “If Five can’t understand me will you tell him what I said?”

“Of course,” I said, somewhat pleased, yet crushed. Obviously he knows he’s in speech therapy, but he’s never actually acknowledged his communication issues in words.

“I’ll help you too,” said Satchel sweetly.

All morning Satchel was watching the clock, counting down to 11am. Warren and I both lectured the boys on behaving, and reminded them that their friends don’t come over to watch them fight. We also threw in a few, “Remember Five is a big kid, so you don’t want to act like babies,” for good measure.

Five arrived right on time, and immediately joined the monkeys in front of the TV. Robby came in to chat for a few minutes and I told him how relieved I was that Five wanted to come over. “He was really excited,” Robby assured me. He also said that Five was looking forward to going on a hike.

“How long can we have him?” I asked, calculating how long it would take to drag the three boys away from the Wii in order to get them to the park.

“Until 2pm?” Robby suggested.

“Perfect,” I said.

Robby went to run errands, Warren went to his office to study, and I set up my laptop in the kitchen, right outside the living room door. Five happily took control of the Wii remote and started talking through his every move as Satchel and Jiro watched and listened intently. Every time he beat someone or something, moved up a level, etc. there was lots of cheering. Satchel was so excited, he had to stand next to Five and jump up and down every few minutes.

I tried to translate this scene into adult terms. I equated it with me calling a friend for help. I’ve certainly called Robby a number of times to ask him Internet questions. And my friend, Chip, recently came over to set up our wireless connection. There isn’t anything wrong with having a more knowledgeable friend come over and help out with something you find difficult, is there?

Sure, there’s something to be said for figuring stuff out on your own, but not all of us are good at that. (I know I’m not.) I’d much rather have a friend show me how to do something than read a manual. Warren thinks this is laziness on my part, but I really learn better that way. And besides, this was definitely a step up from loaning their game to an older kid in order for him to beat all of the levels, like they did with their Mario game for DS.

Five was an excellent teacher. He listened to Satchel’s 1001 questions and answered them all without a hint of annoyance. He genuinely seemed to be enjoying the act of passing on his knowledge. I actually wished I could be as patient as Five. The never-ending questions are sometimes too much for me!

For his part, Satchel was an ideal student. He paid attention, asked pertinent questions (“Can you do this? Can you do that? Can you do it again?”), showed his appreciation (“Wow! You’re the best! You’re like an expert! Thank you! You’re my best friend!”), and even fetched some ice water when Five got thirsty. (He came running into the kitchen exclaiming, “Five needs water!”)

Jiro was similarly glued to the television, and gave Five his undivided attention. I don’t know if he had a hard time getting a word in with Satchel’s constant questioning and Five’s detailed answering or if he felt self-conscious, but I have never heard him be so quiet in my whole life!

Every once in awhile I would go in and watch for a minute, ask a few questions, see if anyone needed anything, and mention that we were going to go to the park soon. Finally, at 1pm, I decided to pull the plug. “You guys ready to go on a hike?” I said enthusiastically.

“Sure,” Five said. (He had answered, "Maybe in a minute" every other time I asked this question.)

“No!!!!!!!!!!” Satchel and Jiro said in unison, cracking their metaphorical whips. Clearly they wanted to keep Five hooked up to the Wii for eternity.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m sure Five is tired by now. Let’s go run around.”

They had no choice but to follow Five out of the door. They played in the front yard while I got the dogs and alerted Warren that it was time to head home. Soon we all set off down the street. Satchel and Five were talking a mile a minute (about Mario). While they were talking, they naturally gravitated towards each other and were walking as close as humanly possible without tripping each other. Jiro kept trying to wiggle his way in the middle of them, but his little legs couldn’t keep the pace, and they unconsciously edged him out.

Once we got to the trails, Satchel finally found something more interesting than Mario: a giant tangle of fallen trees. He immediately started climbing and expertly traversed the mob of branches. Five, who was wearing Crocs and seemed a little unsure of himself, looked at me and said, “Mind of I give it a try?”

“Go ahead,” I said. “Just be careful.”

A few steps in, Five looked around and then called out to Satchel, “How did you do that?”

I encouraged Satchel to help Five with the trees the way that Five had helped him with Mario. He thought about it for a second, then retraced his steps and told Five where to go. Soon he had an entire obstacle course set up. Warren, Jiro, and I waited patiently as Satchel and Five made their way through. I was happy that Satchel was getting the chance to reciprocate.

As we made our way through the trails back to the red playground, where Robby was scheduled to meet us, Satchel continued to amaze Five with Old Forest wonders. (He was especially awed by the hundred year old grapevines that enable you to swing like Tarzan.)

At the playground, Warren and I chatted with Robby and his wife, Rachael, about linking up through the Internet so we could play Mario Kart against each other and Satchel and Five whispered about future sleepovers. Jiro, still wasn’t saying much, but he seemed happy.

Later that evening, when Satchel attempted to recreate Five’s moves, he and Jiro both celebrated his victories by dancing around the room, singing, “Oh yeah! Oh yeah!” And there were several times I overheard Jiro say, “Wait, I know something…do it this way.”