My Pickle

Isaiah has a friend.
He has had them before but now he has a friend-friend. You know, the kind you look forward to seeing every day, the kind that makes you start every story with a “Me and…” ('Me and A did blah blah blah'). At 3 ½, friendship is funny. Friendship is knowing what color your friends lunch box is, knowing what letter your friends name starts with, riding your tricycles next to each other and waiting for a minute when your friend lags behind. Friendship is wondering what your friend is doing on the weekend when you are both not at school, telling your Mommy when your friend got a boo-boo and how you made sure your teacher put a sticker on it (Isaiah speak for Band-Aid). Friendship is laughing with each other when no one else is, playing with the bubbles in the sink together after you use the potty and thinking color means you’re brown with black hair and your friend is pink with yellow hair and that’s as deep as that difference goes. Friendship at three is pretty awesome. Friendship with my pickle is spectacular.