Neighbors

Last week, a couple of kids from down the street came over every day after school to play and then came over on Sunday, too. I should be happy about this because one of my quibbles with our house is that our neighborhood doesn’t have many children. But of course, not only did I just read about Chinese mothering and feel guilty about how little oversight I give my kids’ school work, but I also don’t really have much affection for these particular kids, a brother and sister aged 5 and 9.

Not that these are bad children; they just lack imagination.  We have some friends who have kids who are full of ideas, who never ask to watch tv or play video games, who my kids love to have over.  But that's not these kids.  One day I returned home from picking up my younger kids a few minutes after my older sons had been dropped off by their afterschool ride, and my boys had let these kids in and turned on the Wii for them, even though we have a no-Wii on school days policy.

I don’t know these kids well, or their family at all, but the fact that they wander the street every day after school and that one day their mother was driving down the street at 7 looking for them, doesn’t give me a very good impression of their home life. I lectured my sons about letting them in when I wasn’t home, but I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for doing so.

That particular day the brother and sister showed up because they were locked out of their house and the babysitter, who lives a few doors down, wasn’t home. When dinner time rolled around, we sent the kids home, but still no one was there, so they came back and ate dinner with us. Apparently, the mother and the babysitter had a miscommunication. But now these kids keep asking if they can eat dinner with us. It’s like we’ve fed stray dogs. They come over after school, play a couple minutes, and then ask for snacks. A lot of snacks. I remind them to say please and thank you to slow them down. Then they stay until we send them home.

So one minute I’m irritated that I’m feeding these mannerless children. The next minute I’m feeling guilty for my resentment and reluctance. My lack of charity. We watched The Blind Side not long ago, and it had its intended effect – it made me feel that I need to do more for the poor. Since I don’t have a class at the community college this semester, I keep meaning to volunteer at St. Vincent de Paul - another resolution I need to act upon.

But here are these kids: I don’t know if they are “poor;” their mother has a job; I haven’t asked if they have a dad around, but they don’t mention him – and I want them to go away. They obviously are less well off than us, because they like our boring house so much. I am embarrassed to mention my coldheartedness. I want to help faceless people. I don’t want to be inconvenienced by children who may not be a good influence, who want to eat the food in my pantry, not what I bought to give away, who interrupt me when I’m trying to make dinner for my own family.  I know I need to be generous to them, but I also want to protect my own children. 

Is setting a good example of generosity and hospitality more important than protecting?