One of the perks of living where we do, is having awesome neighbors. Not like the neighbors that keep their yard clean and wave if they make eye contact as they come and go, but the kind of neighbors that open their door before 9 a.m. when my kid knocks…they even get fed! I have the kind of neighbors that assist in caring for my kids after I send out a last minute text warning everyone Gimme is babysitting for a while.
Our lawn gets mowed.
Our weeds get sprayed.
Our gate gets fixed.
We get fancy decorated cupcakes.
When the Brazilian neighbor lights a fire and seduces the street with the smell of steak, we flock to his patio; forks in hand, like carnivorous robots. He feeds us.
Diet Coke from Costco shows up on our doorstep.
Diet Coke (with a squirt of vanilla and crushed ice) from Maverik is delivered to my front door.
The list goes on and on.
Now, before everyone jumps to the conclusion that I’m always on the receiving end of all of this goodness, let me state that I do my share of pitching in.
All of the children on the street are familiar with where I keep the fruit snacks and popsicles.
Sometimes, I let Double Bogey go next door and use a rock to etch his “sure to be famous, someday” artwork into the Mazda parked in the driveway.
I allow Birdie to watch TV at the house down the street—the family that lives there pays for satellite, and I’d hate to see them paying for hours of unwatched programming. You’re welcome.
When life gets rough for the neighbors across the street, I gladly go over and hold their brand new baby boy.
It’s hard being so generous.
In the end, though, all that hard work is worth it when I get texts like this:
Again, you’re welcome.
I know, I know. My “Neighbor of the Year” trophy is in the mail.