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I Make Me So Bored

I Make Me So Bored

“Dad,” my youngest asks today, as he does almost every day, “can Hugo come over to play?”

“Hugo doesn’t get out of day camp until four o’clock,” I tell him. “We can call then.”

“Can Levon come over?”

“I already called Levon. He’s not home. I left a message.”

“Can Lucas come over?”

“Lucas is away for the week. We’ll try on Monday.”

“Can Maya come over?”

“She lives in London, Jayden. That’s a bit of a trip for a playdate.”

“Can Simone come over?”

“Louisiana isn’t any closer than London.”

“Can Alfie come over?”

“For crying out loud, Jayden, Alfie was just over to play this morning. You’ve had one playdate today already. You’re going to scooter with friends this afternoon. Sometimes you need to do things by yourself.”

Commence tears. “But dad, I’m not fun by myself.”

I try not to show how much I’m laughing inside. “Jayden, there are lots of things for you to do. You could colour, or read a book, or play with your toys, or swing on the swing set, or dress up in your costumes. You don’t need friends to be fun all the time.”

He looks at me with painful earnestness. “Yes I do, dad,” he says. “When I play by myself, I make me so bored.”

What do you say to that? I started searching my phone book for other friends to call.