Wally and the Beav

I had this moment on Sunday when I thought I really might be living in some sort of idyllic family sitcom. Actually, several moments.

I was making a casserole (or "hotdish" as we call it in Minnesota). Ryker was in his high chair having a snack while Jack was helping Chuck in the garage. Then Jack went over to the new neighbor's house and it hit me - I could step onto our deck and yell into the neighbor's yard "Jackson - come wash up for dinner!" Of course, to really look like June Cleaver I would have to change out of my sweats, shower, curl my hair, put on makeup and (buy and) don an apron. But still, my kid was over at the neighbor's. Maybe all of you have already experienced that, but I hadn't. Jack's always in our yard, playing with us.

It really was a surreal moment for me. I put the hotdish on a timer, bundled Ryker up and walked over there to meet them myself (Chuck already had so we knew they were safe and all). I was still unshowered and in sweats and Ryker had mashed potatoes in his hair, but I thought it was more important to go meet them than to look pretty.

As if we weren't already living in some fantasy-neighborhood-world, two more neighbor kids came to join the fun, so we ended up with eight kids and six parents in the yard watching the kids play in a leaf pile, throw a football, ride on the tireswing, and be pushed around in a wheelbarrow. It was SO FUN. And when it got dark we walked back to our house, unbundled and sat down for Tator Tot Hotdish warm from the oven.

I think I've mentioned this before, but when I was a freshman in high school my English teacher berated me for an essay I wrote about my dream life. I said I wanted a white house with a white picket fence - the "American Dream." I really did want it, only at that time I didn't know the house would be a beige rambler in Minnesota with hotdish in the oven. And I forgot to add the part about the awesome neighbor kids.