Our neighbor is a college professor in early childhood education. We don’t know her well, but all signs point to her being a lovely individual. She lives in the second floor apartment of the house next door to us, and her office windows open onto our yard.
When Jack was a toddler, she made a point, on more than one occasion, of stopping to talk to us for a moment over the fence. “I love to hear the two of you play,” she would say. “You always have the nicest conversations.”
Her words touched me. Jack was very verbal from an early age, and I loved my chats with him over the sandbox or flowerbed about nature, trucks, or animals. Both my husband and I had infinite patience for Jack’s endless curiosity and chatter.
Flash forward four years.
We had Emily and in our constant state of emotional and physical…
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