Kids and friendship

We can learn a lot from kids. They’re like baby Buddhas – always living in the moment.

Watch a three-year-old girl picking flowers, a five-year-old boy playing Lego, or a 10-year-old devouring a hamburger: Their task is the most important thing on earth. Nothing else matters.

Then take a look at what you’re doing – texting on the mobile phone, balancing a cup of coffee, thinking about what to make for dinner.

Who’s got it right?

Let’s take friendship, for instance.

I used to agree with Jerry Seinfeld that, once you turn a certain age, your “membership is full”.

Most of us have family friends, schoolmates, neighbours and work colleagues who we don’t see enough.

(Or in the case of some work colleagues, who we see far too much.)

Why overextend yourself?

My hardcore husband reckons you only have five real friends in life: Those who’d bail you out of jail, without asking about the crime.

(Yes, he is Chopper Read.)

But, seriously, there’s a lot to be said for widening your circle of friends.

I came to this conclusion after watching the kids at pre-school.

On the first day Grace marched in, sat down next to another three-year-old, and proceeded to make mud patties.

When I picked her up that afternoon, I asked about the little girl.

“I don’t know her name. She’s just my friend,” Grace shrugged.

Five-year-old Taj bowled over with another boy, clutching a Star Wars book he’d borrowed from the library.

“And who’s this?” I asked, ruffling the other lad’s hair.

(I don’t know why I ruffle kids’ hair. In the days of Leave it to Beaver it was probably acceptable. These days you risk being charged with assault or, worse, picking up nits.)

“He’s my new friend ‘cos he likes Star Wars!” Taj beamed.

It’s the same story every time the kids play in the park or swim at the beach.

“Mum, we made thousands of new friends!” they say.

If only it were that simple for grown-ups.

Imagine walking into a café, sitting down next to someone you don’t know, and starting a conversation.

It wouldn’t even cross your mind.

What about at a party, where you don’t know anybody?

Most of us would rather slink off into the corner and stare meaningfully at our shoes.

I felt the same way about Mother’s Group.

How could you possibly form lasting relationships with women whose only commonality is the birth date of their first child?

Well – against all odds – it worked.

Some are now dear friends, who I trust with my children’s lives.

As different as we first seemed, we’re really not that different after all.

Deep down, we all have similar hopes and dreams, struggles and successes, loves and losses.

And we all want someone to play with in the big sandpit of life.

So take down that sign that says “Membership Full”, and replace it with one that says, “Playmate Wanted. No Experience Necessary”.