Because Donald and I were both born and bred here – right down the rival high school attendance – we have the good fortune to live very near people we bonded with over crayons, hopscotch, and summertime popsicles.
Scratch that. My husband informs me that hopscotch was never part of his kindergarten routine. Couldn’t I have picked something cool to include in the bonding sentence? Like slingshots? Or digging tunnels? Or roasting ants with a microscope?
OOH! I’VE GOT IT! HOW ABOUT RUNNING HALF-NAKED THROUGH THE SPRINKLERS HOLLERING LIKE TARZAN?
No? Nobody else did that? Just me?
At any rate, living amongst the people who made us who we are is a wonderful thing. Growing up with constant friends is wonderful. Learning the ropes of the adult world with constant friends is wonderful. Starting a family alongside constant friends is wonderful.
But raising babies together who are, a generation later, bonding over crayons and slingshots and summertime popsicles is the most wonderful of all.
They reach for one another’s hand on the playground, lace their fingers together and swing hands to and fro. They play together, exchanging quick hugs and high-fives and unintelligible babbles. They kiss one another shyly behind the tree, learning their first lessons in friendship.
My heart melts. My spirit soars. My soul sings.
And THAT plus a little half-naked Tarzan sprinkler-action was my weekend. How was yours?
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By Alicia S. on June 06, 2011
My little boy made his first neighborhood friend a few weeks ago—he’s stolen the hearts of his much older sister’s preteen friends long ago—but this is his first friend of his VERY own. And it is a daily routine for us now to meet up in one another’s yards and watch these two little buddies run for each other like long-lost brothers meeting for the first time in (OMG LIKE SIXTEEN WHOLE HOURS!) and yell like Tarzan together and fall in the grass laughing when they don’t catch any of the balls the other tosses their way… and it is invariably the best part of my day.