Posts Tagged ‘ griot ’

And Now My Son Will Only Have Girls For Friends…

Thursday, October 11th, 2012

22 months.

I had always hoped that my 500th Dadabase post would be about something at least a little bit monumental.

The good news is that in this 500th Dadabase article of mine, I do have a milestone to write about in my son Jack’s life so far.

The bad news is, that milestone is that my son’s best (and only) friend who is a boy is moving to Texas at the end of the month, just a few weeks before Jack’s 2nd birthday.

That’s right. Henry, as recently featured in my recent Mall Toddlers post with Jack and Sophie, is bound for the Lone Star State.

It’s a difficult concept to grasp that The Three Musketeers are being split up.

Even stranger is the fact that Jack doesn’t really have any friends that are boys that are his age. He is surrounded by girls!

I wonder if Jack will suffer the same fate as me: I have some of the best guy friends I could imagine. The problem is that most of them don’t even live in the same state as me.

Henry has been a part of Jack’s life since January, which is nearly half of Jack’s lifetime. Not to mention, it was Henry who introduced Jack to Thomas the Train, which Jack is currently consumed with.

Obviously, in the process of Jack and Henry becoming friends, their parents have by default become friends as well.

So this is a big deal; even if more so for me than for Jack.

Of course, knowing that my own memory didn’t start until my 2nd birthday, and many people say that was abnormally soon, I have to assume Jack may not have clear memories of his adventures with Henry.

What if Jack only learns about Henry by reading about him years from now?

In other words, how weird would it be that Jack and Henry’s friendship was not at all recorded in their own minds, but instead only preserved, and for their sake, only existing, because of how I recorded and presented it?

In essence, I become the storyteller, the narrator, and the griot of my son’s life; not simply just for outsiders, but most of all, for my son.

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