GAIL WHITE When two worlds collide, it must be 3 p.m.

It is 3 p.m., and my 13-year-old has just walked in the house after school.
Three-year-old David runs to greet his "best friend."
"Hi, Wobet!" David says, jumping into big brother's arms.
"Hi Davie!" Robert responds, turning the preschooler upside down.
It is both boys' favorite time of day. Robert, very glad to be home from school. David, elated to have a playmate.
Watching their antics with each other, I am struck by the differences between their lives.
Awkward vs. carefree: Robert is in the awkward middle school years; quite possibly the worst years of a person's life.
David is in the carefree, preschool years; quite possibly the best years of a person's life.
Robert gets up early and heads to school every day. The friendship jockeying and "fitting-in" issues greet him at the school doors.
When David gets up, he asks, "Do I go to school today?"
"School" for David is the home of a wonderful grandmother. He is greeted at the door by a small group of children jumping up and down, yelling, "Davie's here!"
Robert carries a big backpack, often filled with heavy school books.
David carries his own backpack (Actually, it is an old swim bag. He doesn't mind the flowers on it). It is filled with a bag of pretzels and a sippy cup.
Schoolwork: Robert spends hours in the evening doing homework. Pre-algebra and accelerated reading requirements fill much of his free time.
David brings no homework home from his "school." He has excelled in "Truck Playing 101" and teeter-tottering.
Feeling left out, however, he has created his own version of homework.
"I'm going to do my work now," he has recently started saying.
His work involves a pair of child scissors and a piece of paper -- sometimes two or three sheets. He cuts the paper into tiny pieces.
"Shhh!" he said the other evening. "I'm working." His tongue was sticking out to prove it.
Robert must concern himself with proficiency exams.
David does not even concern himself with staying in the lines of the coloring book.
Robert, as he has moved into his adolescence, has developed a belly. We have assured him that as he grows taller (Heaven forbid!) it will go away. He is self-conscience about it nonetheless.
David, as he has moved into his preschool years, takes great delight in emerging from the bathtub for a quick streak around the family room. He has absolutely no concept of self-consciousness.
Image: Robert is concerned with his image. Only certain clothes are acceptable. (Many, of which, are unacceptable to me!)
David is concerned with not putting both legs in one pant leg. After much struggle, he often ends up wearing the pants backward. (Which, to celebrate his independence, I find acceptable -- depending on where we are going that day.)
Robert has begun weightlifting, hoping to gain strength and stamina for upcoming sports.
David, walking through the kitchen the other day, announced, "I'm soooo strong!" He is able to weightlift the world in his eyes.
Robert is nervous about baseball tryouts. He is diligently practicing his batting and catching.
David hits homeruns every time, in his imaginary world of living room baseball.
Robert is resistant to any form of affection. I have been relegated to a kiss on the forehead at bedtime.
David freely flows with affection. A big bear hug around the neck, kisses all over the face.
He is especially fond of giving and receiving raspberries on the belly.
Now that's something Robert remembers doing in those carefree preschool days. Those days, as he looks at his little brother, he often wishes he still lived in.
And that's what they are doing right now -- at 3 p.m., after a long day at school, two "best friends" worlds apart, yet both "little" boys who want to be so very much the same.
gwhite@vindy.com