My daughter is 8 years old, and her world has changed in an exciting way: There are now kids in the neighborhood for her to play with.
“Wait, what?” you might be thinking. “How is that worth mentioning?”
It’s worth mentioning because we live in Edmonds, and they don’t call it “Deadmonds” for nothing. Yes, there are parts of Edmonds that are growing rapidly with overflowing schools — but then there are other sections, like where we live, that are a 55-and-older person’s paradise. That’s why the yards are so nice. Baby Boomers have more time to weed.
If you’re a kid, living next door to Baby Boomers is pretty sweet. They give out the best Halloween candy — full-sized bars and goodie bags. When it’s Girl Scout Cookie season, you can always count on your cul-de-sac for strong sales. But if you want kids to play with, you’d better hope that a Gen X or Millennial family moves in.
There have been no other little girls on our street for more than a decade. In terms of wild and abandoned playtime, it’s been a black hole of loneliness. Then, last year, a family with two daughters moved into the house behind us. A few months ago, another family arrived. Now there are three families on one street with girls my daughter’s age.
It’s like Christmas and the Fourth of July all rolled up into one.
“Mom,” my daughter says as soon as she rushes through her chores, “I’m playing outside.” Then she hops the fence and joins the gaggle of girls. They roam each other’s houses, like a flock of birds. When it’s our turn to host, my son flees.
The girls hop fences, climb trees, make jewelry, build forts and do a gazillion other things that don’t involve screens. They come and go through the sliding-glass doors like old friends. Sometimes they call each other on the phone and blurt out “Wanna play?” Other times they spy each other from the upstairs windows, and then let out a rallying cry.
Having neighborhood children to play with is giving my daughter newfound independence that spreads into every aspect of her life. For the past eight years, she needed me to organize play dates. Now, she has control over her own free time.
She’s become more excited about bike riding, too. She rides to the playground and back all by herself.
As her mom, it’s hard for me to watch her ride away. What if she falls down? What if she gets lost? What if there’s a kidnapper? A dozen episodes of “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit” stream in my mind.
Then I look around my neighborhood, at the fiercely independent Baby Boomers, and realize they probably had childhoods flush with unsupervised play. “Come home for dinner when the street lights turn on,” their moms likely said.
I’m not as brave as a mom from the 1950s, but I know with 100 percent certainty that having other children in the neighborhood to play with is a blessing. This part of Deadmonds is reborn.
Jennifer Bardsley is author of the books “Genesis Girl” and “Damaged Goods.” Find her online on Instagram @the_ya_gal, on Twitter @jennbardsley or on Facebook as The YA Gal.
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