Romeo, Romeo

My son has fallen in love with the neighbours. They are a family originally from Pakistan. They have three children, aged six, three and just under two. They have a TV and microwave popcorn at their house, neither of which we have at ours.

Standing on the front balcony, my son can see but not touch the neighbour kids. He cries because they are so close yet so far away. He goes to the back balcony, which we share with our neighbours, and rattles their door, hoping they will open the door, hoping they will come out. He sits, disappointed and dejected, when they don't. He can hear them laughing and playing on their side of the wall and this is a bitter pill indeed. He walks around saying 'hi, friends' in the hopes that these words will act as the magic wand to make the neighbours appear. To console himself, he says 'friends busy'. This is what I have taught him when their door is closed.

This is a tricky dance. The neighbour-kid-dance. The mother's lack of English prevents a frank discussion of the type 'when is it ok for the kids to play together and when is it not?' I can feel the hesitation wafting from both sides of the balcony. Neither of us wants to over-impose or take advantage. We don't want our kids to be messy, obnoxious or wearing-out their welcome. So we are careful, keeping our doors closed more often than not. When the doors are open, we exchange greetings, and small gifts of food, as the kids run screamingly from house to house, my son becoming more and more hysterically excited with each lap.

Yesterday, my son gave the little boy a smack on the head. The mother looked shocked. Play time quickly ended after that.

Yes, I am that kid's mother. Perhaps this is why the door has been so firmly closed today and why my son has spent a good part of the morning moping.