The other day, a bunch of neighborhood kids were playing soccer in the courtyard of our apartment building. We were home all day, and enjoyed hearing the sounds of fun. Later that evening, I headed out for groceries, and found a note in our door. Well, it was not a nice note – it was one of those things that bored kids play around with, letting their imaginations run wild. It was obviously written by a kid. So, Rick took it over to our neighbor (they had previously said to let them know if they could help in any way). Rick showed him the note, explained how we thought it was a kid, and asked the neighbor if he would mention to the kids in the street that, while it was a joke, it was not a nice thing. The man nodded, and we figured that would be the end of it. Not so! About a half hour later, knock, knock… There is a kid (about 7) at our door, looking pretty embarrassed, and behind him is his father (as it turned out, it was the neighbor we had talked to) – arms crossed, looking stern. The father prompted his son – well? Then the boy said that he was sorry. The father said ¨speak up¨ and tell him why you´re sorry.¨ (Wow! Major flashbacks…) The son spelled it out, and then Rick said (very formally) that he accepted his apology. And they shook hands.
So, while this could have left a bad taste in our mouths, it ended up making us feel like the Ticos grow up a lot like we do – we make mistakes, and good parents make us own up to them…
2 comments:
Great story!
It felt pretty good after a while - felt like we were now a small part of the boy becoming a man
Post a Comment