Be a good neighbor

Because State Farm isn't in our neighborhood.

I could have sworn today was Friday and not Monday.  While the boys were fairly okay in shuffling out the door, the breakfast conversation wasn't exactly normal.

While eating his breakfast, Colin mentions a girl on the bus saying she hates them.  I sussed out from him it's a girl on the street behind us.  She's a bit of a snot, like her mom, so I'm not exactly concerned about her saying she doesn't like the boys.  Seriously, the girl is a brat, her mom barely acknowledges us when we're out with Murphy.  No big deal.

What bothers me is her proceeding in telling the boys our backyard neighbor (is that the right term?), the Orrs, hate us.  Yes, I know the boys can be loud.  Colin could wake the dead if he so desired.  Yes, I realize our 12 tomato plants fizzled across the back fence, making our yard look like shit.  Yes, I realize they're odd balls in their own right.  Do I think they hate us?  No because I've had enough conversations with Mrs. Orr to know she wouldn't acknowledge us if she truly hated us.  She's blunt.  She doesn't mince words.  She's joked about the exuberance of the boys, laughing that they're mine and not hers.  All the while acknowledging her kids were muted in their play.  I've had other neighbors confirm how their kids were as toddlers.

I proceeded in talking with Colin about how it's okay for kids to not like them, not everyone will.  It's okay for us to not be friends with everyone on the block and how if the Orrs hated us I'd never get a wave from her.  Please let me believe this fantasy, k?  I told him there are enough people in our neighborhood who like us, who like them, it more than balances out a snotty girl and her family.

Neighborhood dynamics are a bitch.  And people wonder why I sit on the porch with a drink in my hand.