The Kid had lots of energy the other night and wanted to play with other kids. It was too late in the evening to try to call around to see if any of his friends were available.
(This is a huge disadvantage to him not going to the neighborhood school—his school friends don’t live around here. Another story for another day.)
“You can go across the street and knock on the door and see if the kid there wants to play.” (They’ve played before when they and the kids next door happened to all be outside, but there’s been no doorbell-ringing.)
He looked at me like I was nuts.
“That’s what we did when we were kids. We just went to friends’ houses and knocked to see if they could play.”
He seemed unsure (and was completely uncomfortable doing it), but he wanted to play badly enough that he decided to go for it.
I went to the window to watch.
Before he made it across the street, the boy came out. A few minutes later, The Kid came back and said they’re riding their bikes to the park and can we go?
And so it went. (The park is far enough away that parents chaperoned.)
They planned to play again the next day. “When I’m ready in the morning, I’m just going to go ring their doorbell.”
He did go ring the doorbell the next morning, and they did play for a while. Later in the day, the neighbor came and rang our bell to see if The Kid could come over.
Feels like a little piece of the so-called “good old days” is back.