Mighty Max M. - My new kid friend

Every so often a gem of a kid crosses your path.

... Usually when I work in my aunt's yard, I encounter snakes, slugs, thorns, deer, muddy grass, my unruly hair, bugs, and rain.  Today was no different.  That is, except that Max crossed my path.

Max and three other boys were playing in the creek in the woods behind my aunt's house.  One of the boys told him that he was annoying and they didn't want to play with him.  Max announced that he would take the entire land on side of the creek.  He seemed triumphant, but I wanted to stick up for him.

20 minutes later I was pruning on the side yard and Max noticed me through the trees.  HEY!  he said.
We ended up chatting for several hours.  Max, turns out, is 9 and in the third grade.  Max is a nerd.  Nerd, nerd, nerd.  He says it all the time.  I asked him why.  "Glasses!  All nerds have glasses.  I have vision problems."

What a decisive answer.  Well, I could not disprove him within our immediate surroundings; I wear glasses, and I am proud to say that I am a nerd.

So I told Max that it's great to be a nerd.  I'm glad I wasn't cute in high school, and I'm glad I studied a lot.  I told him to read.  I told him that's how he can get ahead in life.  "I know."  Throughout our conversation, I tried to drop maxims and comments that would remind him of his self worth and encourage him.  "I know."  Well, gee, I guess I don't have anything else to say to that, either.




Anyhow, Max says he doesn't really have a problem with the ladies.  You see, he has great hair.  And that gets 'em.  I laughed hard.   It's true, his hair is really lovely.  He told me hair falls out when you touch it.  So he tries not to touch his hair, because then he will go bald.  I asked why men go bald and women don't.  He said I was wrong.  Men don't bald.  Just women.

Max' cousin is 24  and still in college.  He's a nerd, too.  When asked why, Max told me his cousin is really really tall, and likes medieval fighting.  He's pretty good at spinning a heavy rubber mallet between his fingers. My eyebrows raised.  Contemporary Napoleon Dynamite.  I didn't ask any more questions.

Max wanted to help with the yard.  He couldn't quite focus long enough to do anything at all.  And the last thing on his mind was listening to me.  So I considered him both free entertainment and a mode of channeling my psychology and wisdom to actually communicate to him.  Tough job.

He said all the cool kids have the same initial in their first and last name.  His name is Max.  His last name starts with M.  Max M.  I wonder when he'll figure that one out.  (I cringed.  Parents, think before you name your baby.)

He also spoke of dropping a precious diamond into hot lava when he and his sister were wrestling in a cave.  And plenty of other... interesting tales that were much more believable.

Max told me he was really glad those guys told him to go away.  "Because if they didn't, I wouldn't have met you!!!  I like you.  They would be sad if they knew I got to meet you and they didn't."  And that was about as high of a compliment as he could have paid.

Mighty Max M, live on in your 9 year old power!  You rock!