When I was a little kid, I played mostly with boys from my cousin to my brother and all my friends at school. I loved legos and battleship over my Barbie doll (considered a requisite for a young girl). My mom thankfully did not impose upon me the expectations that most young girls get so I was free to play and enjoy my imagination and freedom.
When I turned six, a little Japanese boy Koshiro came to our school. He was a transfer student and stayed for four years before going back to Tokyo. His father was an engineer.
Koshiro was a quiet kid. He had long tapered fingers and loved to draw. He had tons of fancy papers, pens, erasers and gadgets with amazing fun designs all from Japan. I loved to sit with him. We'd draw together. Whenever he felt stressed or did not understand the language fully, he would draw something. I thought he was marvelous (I still do!) and would talk incessantly about Koshiro when I got home.
My dad's best friend got a big kick out of that. He's called me Koshiro ever since. : )