Red, White, and New Neighbors

Our first Fourth of July on Creekwood Lane did not disappoint. We’re still figuring out this whole homeowner thing, but apparently the secret to meeting your neighbors is having a six-year-old who makes friends faster than I make coffee. Sophie spotted kids across the street and within minutes had organized a backyard brigade that included three kids from down the block and somehow ended up with our swing set as headquarters.

Red, White, and New Neighbors

Marcus fired up the grill for the first time in our new backyard, which was equal parts terrifying and adorable. He spent twenty minutes reading the manual like it was going to be on a test, then proceeded to grill with the intensity of a man performing surgery. The burgers were actually pretty good, though I’m not telling him that because his confidence is dangerous enough already.

First time grilling in the new backyard. The burgers survived.

Theo’s contribution to neighborhood relations was roaring at everyone who walked by. Apparently he’s a dinosaur today, which tracks. Mrs. Henderson from next door thought it was “delightful.” I’m choosing to believe she meant it. He also discovered that red, white, and blue popsicles turn your tongue purple, which he demonstrated to anyone within a five-foot radius.

I may have gotten a little carried away with the patriotic outfit coordination, but what can I say? Red, white, and blue happen to be my colors. Marcus said I looked “very American,” which I’m taking as a compliment. The neighbors seem nice, the kids are already planning tomorrow’s adventures, and nobody called the fire department about Marcus’s grilling technique. I’d call that a successful first Fourth of July in suburbia.