“Instead of a Bedtime Story, Can I Play the Banjo”.

We looked all over the house for the banjo. It’s really a broken mandolin. Instead, we ended up with A Tale of Despereaux about a mouse who loves. Propped up with me in a stiff armchair, Philip preempted the story with a reverie:

“For a long time, I have felt there’s something missing in my life.  First, I thought it was a train. So, I asked you to get me the electric train. Then I thought it was something else. And I just have this feeling that I need this thing to survive.”

I asked what do you think it is?  Is it love?

“No, I have lots of love!  Well, actually I don’t. Everyone in my class hates me.”  Here we digressed to the boy who was so happy to be Philip’s best friend that he told his mother excitedly, “I finally have a best friend.” And Philip reminds me that the next day the kid grabbed him by the scruff of the shirt and threw him on the ground. Details.

“Now I’m starting to think it (the thing that’s missing) is a boy who acts boyish and doesn’t believe in god.  All the other boys are like, “Hi- Jah!  I’m so tough. I’m the best!”  I try to tell them to be nice to people: ‘You’re supposed to love people. God made us. God made animals. You’re supposed to be nice to animals.’ But they don’t believe me. No one listens.”   I asked if maybe he just wanted one friend that’s a boy that he knew believed in god.  He is hopping and sliding around the room, doing backbends on the bed, and he says, “He could help me.”

Play your banjo, son.

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