Best Friends Forever.
My daughter Elby’s best friend, Dylan, is moving away and I’m devastated for her. It’s really the worst thing that’s happened to her –besides me coming home from the hospital with twins. How does Elby feel about it? I don’t know because I haven’t told her. I have a sneaking suspicion she’ll take the news with a grain of salt and not sob for an hour straight and immediately up her Zoloft prescription like some people…me. I guess I’m anticipating my own sadness for her first loss –the loss of a ready near playmate. In truth, her parents are only moving about thirty miles away. But for me, mom of three who can barely get herself organized enough to drive to Trader Joe’s a few blocks away when we’re out of peanut butter crackers, they may as well be leaving the country.
I know I’m overreacting. I realize that eating an entire package of blueberry muffins was more about my lack of willpower and it’s probably overreaching to blame it on grief over Dylan’s imminent departure. But I am sad. This was Elby’s first friend that she can play with for hours and not get bored. The girls barely need supervision when they are together (if you don’t mind pencil markings in your shower that sort of resemble Helter Skelter - but, hey, that can easily be removed with a Clorox wipe so I’m not complaining). Despite being five-years-old, a full year older than Elby, Dylan is kind to her best friend. She tolerates Elby’s tendency to burst into tears over not getting to down the slide first at the park or hearing that we’re out of Princess Spaghetti-O’s. Dylan will gently say “It’s okay Elby. I’m still your friend.” Because at four, you tend to worry that a small fight means the other person doesn’t like you anymore. For some people this is true at forty-two as well. But my husband has learned to deal with it.
Dylan turned my daughter into a princess fanatic. Dylan showed Elby how to make a sandcastle at the park out of wet sand (she neglected to teach her how to not bring said sand into the house and how to not grind it into the Oriental rug – but, hey, baby steps), she also teaches her patience, endurance and bravery. Elby teaches Dylan to be silly and dance like a crazy person around the living room or talk in funny voices. Elby also taught Dylan how to be sarcastic, which I find hilarious but I’m not 100% sure her mom does too.
My daughter’s friendship with Dylan started as an easy convenience for me and Dylan’s mom, Cari. The girls were in the same class in preschool and played together extremely well. Somehow it just seemed like less work to have Dylan over at our house after school sometimes or on the weekend to entertain Elby while I hung with the twins. Pretty soon it was a regular occurrence. And soon after that, Cari and I became fast friends –sipping a glass of Pinot Grigio after work while picking up our kid from the other’s home while chatting about lack of time to exercise, how much we love our children’s preschool and eventually moving to topics like how much we appreciate each other’s husband’s butts. I’m sorry but her husband Dave does have a great caboose.