When I was a kid, Academy Hills was my universe. The subdivision of colonial homes with long driveways and tree lined-streets played host to all sorts of exploits for me and my friends. Stu had the best backyard for football because the field laid flat and rectangular with shrubs marking the end zones. The Cooks had the best backyard for sledding with the steepest slope. When we got bored in summer, we trekked across route 92 to Lipes Diary for Twinkies, Ding Dongs, and Gatorade. (Back then it was sold in glass bottles.) Everyone knew everyone and an adventure was only a doorbell ring away.
Until very recently, I didn’t think that my children would grow in the same type of neighborhood. At our old house, Ryan and Chase just didn’t have many kids close in age to adventure with. Plus, our house was a tough bike port to navigate–living on a hill made it easy to leave, but a tough climb upon return. Jenni would “arrange” playdates for the boys–a friend could be shuttled over to our house or vice versa, but it wasn’t organic. There’s nothing wrong with Ryan being driven to another neighborhood to play street hockey, but it’s not recreation on his terms. It’s arranged, and I think most of us could agree there’s far too much arrangement going on in our kids’ lives as it is.
The day we got our keys to our new house, we ran over to “cross the threshold” and take in that “new house smell.” We happened across both next door neighbors, one family who had been moved in for about a week and one that was moving at the time. Each of these neighboring families had two children, roughly about our kids’ ages. Seeing as a minority of Americans know most of their neighbors (31% according to a 2018 Pew Research Center Study) I figured we were off to a good start socially.
As the weather grew nicer, families emerged from their homes. Ryan and Chase began to play with the two little boys next door. I’m not sure what it is about that Y-chromosome, but put a group of boys together and all of sudden a make-believe conflict between good and evil is sure to break out. Years ago it was “Cowboys and Indians” and later “Cops and Robbers” and today it’s…well I have no idea. Far as I can tell, there’s two factions fighting against each other and intuitively all the participants understand not only the source of the conflict, but the rules of engagement. The youngest boy, a five-year old, seems to readily employ some sort of mutant based lightning power. He might be a Pikachu; he might be Jay from Ninjago–either way he’s an adversary not to be trifled with.
Pikachu’s older brother is also one never to shy away from a battle. Whatever your choice of weapons–nerf gun, foam bat, plastic axe, broom–he’s bringing the fight to you. The great thing about next door is there’s a seemingly endless supply of play guns, swords, and something vaguely resembling a plastic version of Loki’s scepter from the first Avengers. Their garage is also loaded with enough vehicles to make a fleet of Big Wheels jealous. When an imaginary threat to the neighborhood arises, the alarm sounds and the kids rally next door to arm themselves to defend.
For my part, I tried to introduce the kids to neighborhood classics like Kick the Can and SPUD. Just the other day, I told Chase to knock on the doors of the houses around the corner for an impromptu wiffle ball game. While many of the neighborhood kids started the game, several dropped out after a while to ride bikes. The beautiful thing about kids playing in the neighborhood is that it teaches them to make their own decisions, drawn on their own preferences, and start to learn who they are. Not everyone enjoys the competitive nature of a game. Some would prefer to color an empty refrigerator box. And while the skateboarders and bike gang opted out of the baseball game; EVERYONE took part in the popsicles that Mrs. Pikachu offered during the seventh inning stretch. No matter our differences, it’s comforting to know that frozen water and sugar on a stick will always unite us all.
In this hyper-vigilant, overscheduled, helicopter parent world that we’re raising our children in, it’s refreshing to be able to allow Ryan and Chase to be free range children. Previously, they could only really turn to each other for ready-made playmates. And if you know my children, you know they’re like two great sovereign nations that share a border–sometimes the countries’ needs are aligned and other times…not so much. Now there’s a new world for them beyond the front door and it’s a world they can navigate without mom and dad’s help or interference. By playing out on Tesoro Drive, the boys will learn how to communicate with their peers and hopefully grow up to be the individuals we know they can be. Back when we were walking through our model home, Jenni and I imaged the boys doing homework at the big kitchen island and playing with friends in the upstairs loft. In other words, we purchased this home because the interior floor plan was the setting we wanted for the boys’ lives. Who knew there was so much waiting outside?
