There’s a new Paris in Puerto Rico.
Whenever I watched sitcoms and the neighbor kid would wander into the house all the time, I always thought it was so fake. Nobody ever did that.
Until there was Paris.
Our last neighborhood in Madison had a neighbor girl named Paris. Actually she was the granddaughter of one of the neighbors and she would come into our house on her roller blades and play with my kids. And our kids toys. And tell stories about herself. And ask questions about me. Like if I ever heard of the latest and greatest kids crazy characters and websites. No. I haven’t.
Having Paris around the house randomly amused me greatly. She kinda entertained my kids while I got stuff done. Once or twice she put my daughter down for a nap. Score! I think one of those times she carried Ms P up the stairs while still wearing her roller blades. Hrm.
Not long after moving to Puerto Rico we met the neighbor girl Isabel from next-door.
She waltzed into our living room, played with all of our kids toys, picked up P, tossled D’s hair, and I instantly thought to myself “we have a new Paris in Puerto Rico”.
It made me happy.