“Kennedia, come here please,” Robert commands.
“Are you staring at Raymond again?” She asks, as they peer down the hall.
“He needs to stop this. He’s been sitting there for an hour just watching the birds and flipping through that damn magazine.”
“You talk as if his National Geographic is a Playboy.”
“I wish it was,” Robert snaps. “All Raymond does is daydream and read, he doesn’t want to play sports or do anything normal for his age— You know he got a birthday invitation in the mail today? Do you want to know what he said? He said he’d rather stay home and finish making his automatic bird feeder.”
“Yes, he’s training the Stellar’s Jays to peck the red button to make the food release,” Kennedia smiles.
“He’s eight years old, it’s time for him to get his head out of the clouds and go make some friends.”
“You’re worried about him,” she says softly.
He purses his lips. “Well, look at him, Kenny. His hair is a rat’s nest and his ears give Dumbo a run for his money. Most kids have dogs— Ray has a leaf collection.”
“And he can list them all by their scientific name.”
“But he needs peers,” Robert stresses. “I need his peers to not make fun of him for sitting alone at recess and lining up the playground tanbark in order from biggest to smallest.”
—Raising Home, pg. 194