Children

I saw S. on my walk to the grocery store yesterday morning. She was manning a sidewalk sale for her friend across the street, whose family moved-in a month ago. I've known S. all her life. She's seven now, almost eight. The kid across the street is roughly her age.

S. was dancing when I turned the corner. Not a dance taught at school, I was told by S's mom, but something learned from YouTube. "Hey, you've got that down, S!" and she stopped, lowered her eyes and said, "Yes, I know." A little more chit-chat and onwards I pressed, the gate across the street clicking and her friend calling out, "Hey! Hey!"

I thought to turn around, introduce myself, but kids have their own lives to catch up on. I'd met S's friend's parents last week, and they were friendly enough, interested enough to ask me how long I'd been in the neighbourhood. There will be other occasions to introduce myself.

"Hey!" said S's friend again, his voice now crossing the street. "Do you know him?" And for a moment S's silence. He asks again, and S. hurries her reply: "I don't know." Another silence. "He doesn't have a kid, right?" says S's friend, and this time, without hesitating, S. says, "No, he doesn't."