Yesterday was a total hoot. The seated lunch for Baby John next door was warm, fuzzy, and like family without all the drama. Claire was beyond the cutest gal ever and seated at tiny kids tables, all of the kids were remarkably well behaved. Score for their parents! Well behaved children are always a credit to the time and effort their parents spend with them setting limits. This bunch was phenomenal and their parents were so fun--at least the ones we were seated with--and even though we were the "oldsters" at the table, we felt like we fit right in, minus the wrinkles.
I was informed by one of the older little girls present that Claire and John's dog, Buddy, had "passed away". (I had asked where he was thinking he was hidden in a back bedroom somewhere. Oops.) It seems old Buddy was old, not well, and just grumpy. He had snapped at both kids recently and actually nipped Baby John's cheek a few weeks back, so when they went on a weekend trip last weekend, so did he. Permanently.
On arriving back home after that l-o-n-g walk across the driveway, we were remarking at how much we love our neighbors and our block. Bruce remarked that we are sort of the " in town adopted grandparents next door" and we decided we LOVE that designation.
It was at lunch that we also found out about a single mom (and good friend of one of our lunch mates) who had moved in yesterday across the street from us, with her four kids, post a very recent divorce. Ouch. When we got home, out came the brownies I had made, onto a paper plate they went, and across the street I went to meet them all. The mom was unpacking her car from a grocery run and looked exhausted, so I gave her the brownies, told her all my info was on the card on top, and to holler if she needed anything--our house was the one with the red front door. I told her I was a retired nurse, adored kids, to let us help her if we could, and gave her a big hug. Cue the tears. We ended up laughing. I know...it was the hug.
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