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We had invited our new neighbours round for Christmas drinks this afternoon. And when I say we, I do of course mean Catie. I think I've made it clear that when it comes to being sociable I am something of a klutz. Mainly for fear, I think, of imposing my company on someone who is too polite to reject it. I am usually too polite to reject the company of someone whose company has been imposed on me and I'd rather endure solitude than subject someone that nice to an unwanted experience. If I didn't have a wife I would be a childless hermit living in a cave.
And yet I make my living showing off to strangers. I know, it makes no sense.
If you needed any proof that my son was a carbon copy of myself, Ernie was feeling nervous about meeting these new people. He asked if he could go round to his Nana and Papa's house instead. That wouldn't have worked of course, so he was going to have to lump it. So his solution was to create a shyness box.
We'd just had a drinks cabinet delivered and Ernie took the tall box, cut some eye holes and some arm holes and then got inside it, sliding round the kitchen like a cardboard ghost. It was absolute genius. I wish I'd thought of this year's ago. All the events I could have attended, without having to bolt through anxiety, because my identity would have been secret and I could have glided through the throngs unobserved. Well actually very much observed, but still anonymous. Which is the perfect situation for my introverted extrovert personality.
It had the echo of some religious clothing designed to shield the form of the wearer from the lascivious eyes of strangers. It was hilarious, of course and eccentric and insane and would make quite the impression on the neighbours if Ernie styled it out.
Which gloriously he did. Each person who arrived got a mild jolt of surprise as the box slid around and they guessed correctly that there was a child inside. Ernie was very loquacious from inside his cardboard prison and was, almost like he got everything he wanted, the centre of attention as a result. But it acted as a social decompression chamber. He could stay in there until he felt comfortable enough to reveal his actual physical form. I absolutely want to manufacture and sell these to the many weird nerds who share this affliction to be anti-social and shy, whilst perversely wanting to be the kind of person who is invited to parties and who everything revolves around. I reckon that's probably most people. Those who feel comfortable in social situations are the real weirdos.
The shyness box also had the additional function of acting as a sort of hide, allowing Ernie to position himself near the box of Celebrations and scoop handfuls of sweets into his secret human tortoise shell.
When he was ready to meet the people, having maintained the anonymity of a very chatty priest in a confession box, suddenly the box was shed and the real Ernie emerged, to even more adulation. It's taken me 57 years to reach the weak level of sociability that I now inhabit, this little dick has got to be a party animal in just 7 years, all at his own pace. What a star.
Now he was himself, he was grabbing his favourite toys and insisting everyone watched him play with them. In the end they were probably looking back nostalgically at that time when Ernie was safely ensconced in a structure that made it hard for him to get into too much trouble (beyond knocking things over as he moved), but once Ernie's Box is open you can not get him back in there
We seem to have very kind and sweet (and most importantly patient) neighbours, which is a stroke of luck for us. If you're in a room with your neighbours and can't identify the neighbour from Hell, then the neighbour from Hell might be you.
