The Kid EffectBy Angel Smits
We have new neighbors. That’s not all that unusual since the house next door is a rental. So every couple of years, we get new neighbors. This time, however, it’s a bit different. These people have four small children.
Our neighborhood has aged since we moved in twenty years ago. All the kids, my kids ran around with are all grown. Some of their parents are still around, but most have downsized or moved away. In a largely military community, many have moved “back home.” So this change isn’t what’s caught my attention.
In what’s been a fairly quiet neighborhood the last few years it’s strange to hear the high-pitched sound of children’s voices. I find myself looking out our upstairs windows, hearing their giggles and laughter, wondering what they’re up to. And missing when my kids were that little. ( I quickly change that thinking when they start fighting over a toy, or slugging it out in the toy box—but let me keep my rose colored glasses for a bit longer.) I’m enjoying their antics. And the giggles. There’s no better sound in the world than the happy giggles of little kids.
The other day I heard a new sound, a familiar, long forgotten one. The sound of those battery-powered cars that kids have. My son got one for his birthday when he was two or three. I watched the little ones next door for awhile drive theirs around the yard, then went to the closet to dig out the old pictures. I found some I’d taken of my son and daughter riding around in the back yard.
|If only we'd known...|
|Good thing Dad's always around to help steer!!|