Home is Where the Car Is

Another weekend in our new town, and we've had our ups and downs.

Downs: 1) The swing set next door is for grandchildren. 2) The tricycle belongs to a 4-year-old girl with big brothers. 3) When we took Peter in the backyard to play for the first time, he cried at the fence like a caged wild animal, pointing over the fence screaming "Out! Out!"

Ups: 1) Neighbors continue to drop by introducing themselves, and they already know all about us from... I guess the other neighbors. It's a sign to me that these folks in the cul de sac really are friends. 2) One husband and wife just showed up and cut our yard. It was like a mormon commercial. 3) There is a 13-year-old girl across the street. I repeat: there is a 13-year-old girl across the street. And, yes, she babysits.

So I asked Peter if he likes his Decatur home, and he said,

"Peter like 'Burningham' home."

"Oh?" I said. "You don't like Decatur home?"

He said, "Burningham home have cars."

Well, I guess that'll be an easy fix.