Where Everybody Knows Your Name

This weekend, Kelly and I met some friends at Liluma, our favorite restaurant. The food is wonderful, but one of the reasons we keep returning is the friendliness of the staff, especially toward Ian. We’re always made to feel welcome, and I’ve yet to see anyone roll their eyes when Ian walks through the door.

We arrived fairly early, and had some time to kill while waiting for our friends. We spent a few minutes talking with our waiter, Ian doing his best to join the conversation.

‘What’s your name?’

‘My name? My name’s Gus. What’s your name?’

‘I’m Ian!’

‘Pleased to meet you, Ian.’ Gus shook Ian’s hand.

Ian’s face lit up, and he patted the table in front of one of the empty chairs. ‘You join us? Sit down?’

I was floored. There’s a saddening lack of courtesy in this country, especially toward anyone having anything to do with service industries, and here was my son—a three-year-old boy—offering our waiter a seat. And I’ve no idea where he learned this. We do our best to stress polite behavior, but we’ve yet to reach the ‘invite friends to join you’ stage of Ian’s finishing.

I’ll admit it, I’m darned proud. I don’t like to tout the wonders of Ian the Great, but we do have a very intelligent son, especially when it comes to social interaction. He knows how to relate to people, and make them feel comfortable. He can sense the underlying currents of a situation, and is generally pretty quick to figure out what’s wrong, and why.

Kelly and I talked about this afterward, on the way to the car. I couldn’t see why I should be so proud of our son’s behavior; it certainly wasn’t a feeling of pride in my parenting skills or table manners. She suggested that I’m proud because, when it comes to social skills, Ian is everything I’m not. Or, at least, everything I perceive myself not to be.

One of my greatest frustrations is my social awkwardness. I’m a rabid introvert, and lean strongly toward ‘flight’ when faced with strangers, a dinner party, or small talk. Kelly disagrees, but I feel as though I’m terrible at relating to people; since high school, I’ve felt stunted when it comes to dealing with others. Frankly, this short-coming has become a little painful.

Ian doesn’t have that problem. I don’t think it’s important for anyone to be well-liked, but I so want my son to be comfortable with himself, and confident in who he is.

Now we just need to teach him boundaries. And personal space. Many lessons on personal space.