Pick Me, Pick Me

Since the days of dodge ball and otter pops, when chocolate milk and root beer lip balm was all a girl needed, and everyone was a best friend, there resonates within us the need and the want to be included.

No one wants to be picked last at dodge ball.

No one wants to be left out of the birthday party.

No one wants to be told over and over that everyone else is "too busy" to stop and give a minute.

I remembered the feeling of being left out, especially left out of the fun when I was growing up. I had friends (thank the good Lord above), but there were times, when others didn't know me, that I wasn't included. I've always been too tall, too awkward, with unruly red hair and freckles galore. I get embarrassed easily, and when singled out or asked a question directly, I secretly wish I could be absorbed by the walls surrounding me.

All this to say, this evening when I was putting dinner together, AJ was at my feet and he was begging me to play with him. Of course, I have yet to figure out how to make myself appear in two places at once so I settled for giving him a bowl and unopened spices. He sat there, as content as could be, happy to be included in the "cooking". I was able to toss together dinner, while we cooked alongside one another, neither feeling left out or excluded.

But isn't that how life is?

We want to be asked.

We don't want to be picked last.

We want someone, somebody to include us.

AJ doesn't ask for much. All he wants is someone to build legos with, a helping hand to take him outside, and the occasional cooking adventure in the kitchen. It's not much, but it means everything to him.

(He picked me flowers :) )

And so it means everything to me.