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Lunch With Bobby

My dad died in the mountains when I was six.
First words out of his mouth, a new boy, unknown to me.
How old are you now?  Six.
So he just died? Maybe not. He is taking medicine, so he can go to work.
So he lives with you? Yes, when he’s not dead.  He has a power arm with stones. The green ones make you go slow.
Green stones?
Yes.
The yellow ones make you jump.
He is jumping to my office door now, to demonstrate.
What do the blue stones do? I ask.
He laughs. They make people into animals.
The teacher has referred this child suspecting depression.
He is smiling widely at me right now, and I barely know him.
Could your dad make me a dog if I wanted to be a dog?
He stares at me.  Then he turns and jumps back. No. You could be a monkey though.
What about an eagle? Could I be an eagle? I ask him.  Maybe, he says, but you will have to wait until tomorrow.
I had to beat up Elliot’s dad, he told me.
Is this a grown up?
Yes.
And you beat him up?
His voice raises quite a few octaves. I had to, because he MURDERED me and that is NOT nice.
When did he murder you?
Last night, Silly.
It does not take a kindergartener long to get my number.
Who lives at your house? I ask him.
My mom, and my dad, and my baby sister.
Oh, you have a baby!
Yes, and she is seven.
Seven months?
Maybe.
Does she sit up?
No.
Can you carry her around?
No.
Can you hold her?
Sometimes.
He wants a piece of paper so he can draw a picture of Bobby, his best friend.
I get him a piece of paper.
And I need colors, he says.
I ask him which colors, and he wants blue, purple, red, yellow, and green.
I get them to him.
He draws a picture.
This is his arm, he tells me. It is a super hero.
The arm?
He shakes his head yes.
I keep secrets, he says.
What are they?
I am a super hero.
Have you saved people?
He nods.
How many?
Six.
Who are your friends in class?
I do not have any.
No one is your friend?
No.
Would you like one?
Yes, maybe my best friend.
What is your best friend’s name?
Bobby.
I did not know there was a Bobby in your class.
He is in the other class.
Mrs. F’s class?
Yes.
Would you like to have lunch in here with me and Bobby some time?
Yes.
Okay, we can do that.
Bobby is invisible he tells me.
 

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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Date: 9/27/2018 11:22:00 AM
Funny write! But, I can't pick on the kid... when I was his age, I had my teacher convinced I had extra sister (who was invisible, of course)... complete with family portraits and all kinds of detailed descriptions and stories. Imagine my mother's surprise at the parent teacher conference! ;P
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Caren Krutsinger
Date: 9/27/2018 1:52:00 PM
I can relate, as we had a brother who told the teacher he was an only child. When my sister tried to pick him up as a sixth grader, the teacher was highly suspicious, and would not let him go.
Date: 9/27/2018 5:49:00 AM
Ah the wonder of childhood; the stories they tell; the visuals they provide us...wonderful. Oh yes, wonderful pen, too.
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Caren Krutsinger
Date: 9/27/2018 6:43:00 AM
I just listened, and jotted it all down after he happily danced back to class, me behind him begging him to stop, as we are not supposed to be this "jazzy" in the hallway.