I’m sitting here on the sofa. Alone. Earlier tonight, my daughters were sitting on the neighbor’s step and I remembered when Timmy was about Alaina’s age, maybe four or five years old. There was a different neighbor living there at the time, an elderly woman that would sometimes give Timmy taffy or a chocolate. On the storm door at the time, she had a plastic trellises style cover over the screen. Timmy had sat on her step and she had come to the door and said she would be back with a treat. Timmy was excited and started to climb or pull on the trellises and snapped off a piece of the plastic. The woman began to scold Timmy. I told her I would repair the cover and that it wouldn’t be any more than a minute. Timmy of course not understanding that he broke the plastic, let alone caused very minor damage.

Of course I was told how bad of a father I was for not controlling my son. Bad father? Controlling? I told the woman again I would fix the broken plastic as good as new and apologized for my son’s “crime.” I brought Timmy into the house and went to the “junk” drawer in the kitchen to retrieve some Crazy Glue. When his mother asked what happened I explained it was no big deal it was taken care of and done with. I glue this small curling piece of plastic back to where it had snapped off. After that day, woman did not return hellos from anyone of the three of us. It’s funny how such a minor memory popped into my consciousness.