Reparation

I was in the kitchen tonight with Connie when I heard voices. There was no TV or radio going. We never hear neighbors in the house, the insulation and double-paned windows keep things quiet, and the neighbors are a ways from the house.

ding dong!

The doorbell rang. That explained the voices. They were right on our porch.

I answered the door, and there was our neighbor from across the street and the little blond miscreant who had been vandalizing our daily newspaper (which, by the way, have been unmolested since our little encounter a couple days ago).

The boy stood there with his head down, some dollar bills in his hand.

"Do you have something to say?" his father prodded. Silence. After some more prodding, the little guy apologized and gave me the money. I told his dad that wasn't necessary, but he said it was. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud the whole time. I felt sorry for the father. For the kid, too, for that matter.

It's nice to know there are parents who teach their kids responsibility.


Posted by Dave    Blog Tag: Chatter