It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Yesterday morning, our house was attacked...literally. While we were all still sound asleep and hugging our cozy little blankets, some elementary school boys decided that their early-morning wait for the school bus needed a bit more excitement. Here's how it all unfolded:

Semi-conscious around 7 a.m., I thought I heard the doorbell ring, but because it was so early in the morning and there would be no reasonable explanation, I wasn't sure if I had imagined it or not. I nudged Chris out of bed to check on things and wasn't surprised when he came back and said that nobody was there. Well, after getting all cozy again, the doorbell very audibly rang a second time a short while later. Once again, Chris got up to answer the door. I caught only bits and pieces of the conversation that ensued between Chris and a woman whose voice was unfamiliar. It had something to do with a boy, a bus stop, a rock, and our window. Someone would be contacting us about it later in the day. Fabulous.

When Chris came back, he confirmed that our window had, indeed, been broken. The kid who was responsible for breaking it lived just across the street and one house over. How lame are we? We didn't even know that a kid lived there, nor did we know this kid's parents. We live in a fairly quiet neighborhood where people apparently don't like to come out of their houses let alone talk to each other. OK, maybe that's just US, but anyway, we're getting to know these neighbors a little better now.

Last night, while Chris was putting his new license plates on his car, this boy and his dad came over. I wasn't outside at the time, so I don't know what words were exchanged, but I'm sure they were friendly ones, because we couldn't have cared less that our window was broken. I guess we just had a lot of faith that the right thing would be done. Sure enough, the kid brought with him a handwritten letter that read:

"dear house 2718,

My name is J.... T..... . I'm sorry about throwing a rock at your window. You see my old friend C... threw a rock at your house but that one did not hit your window. Then I wanted to see how far I could throw a rock. And then it hit your window but I did not mean to hit your window. So I am really sorry. So I promise if you want me to do any work for you I will do it. And again I am really really sorry for hitting your window. And I will never ever touch a rock ever again.

to house 2718
from J.... T....."

I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the kid. Just imagining the panic-stricken look on his face when he saw the window break takes me back to lessons I had to learn in my own childhood. Chris said the boy looked to be about 7 or 8 maybe. I thought it was really nice of him to offer, in his letter, to do work for us, and while I can think of plenty of work that needs done around here, I'm sure that little J.... is learning a valuable lesson from his parents right now, so, of course, I won't take him up on his offer. His parents are taking care of fixing the window and are more concerned about it than we are, really. It is nice to know that we live among respectable people who would make sure that the damage was repaired promptly and who would also expect their child to take responsibility for his actions and do whatever he could to right his wrong. I think that is really admirable of them, and I will remember this when my own kids get into mischief someday. Meanwhile, it's not so bad, because now we know who these people are, and heaven forbid their identities be cemented as "the parents of the kid that broke your window." I think I'll have to remember to take some cookies over one of these days...