Living on a dead end street is wonderful because kids play on them. At least they play on mine. At a time when I hear many parents say that kids don’t or can’t just go out and play like we did when we were little, on my block bicycles and scooters and basketball and soccer and who-knows-what else are frequent pastimes.
Today one family was out with their two young teenaged sons and their friends playing football on one part of the street while the younger kids rode bikes and skipped rope and acted crazy just beyond them. It was wonderful.
Two new kids moved in this summer and as soon as the weather was cool enough that I didn’t collapse upon exiting the house, my boys got to meet them. Within days of that introduction, my not-so-athletically-inclined eldest child finally figured out how to use his scooter. Yay for peer pressure! He still runs with his arms at a forty-five degree angle, but we’re working on it.
My boys are smitten with these two fun, cheerful little girls. If we happen to be sitting in the living room and they catch the sound of the wheels on pavement they gasp, wide-eyed, “The girls!” They like their new friends so much they might even begin to remember their names one day.
And today, well, today! Today there was a knock at the door. I opened it and the smiley little grand-daughter of one of my neighbors said, “Is Jack home?” There was a kid calling for my kid! At the door!
Maybe the suburbs ain’t so bad, huh?