In Praise of Hamways

It's awfully nice to know that you're dropping your child off with people who love him dearly and who he loves so much that he won't even want to get in the car with you when you pick him up. And I'm not even talking about his grandparents.

James spent Monday with our young-parents-with-two-kids friends while I was stuck in the (opera) Pit of Despair. He didn't want to get in the car when I came to pick him up.

That's because he was with his best friend, Alexa. We originally met the H-ways because Alexa needed a sitter, and J was recommended. She wasn't particularly fond of us at 11 months old, but she and James learned to play together even before they could walk, and she has become his favorite friend in the whole world. Consider: She is only person to whom he will voluntarily hand over Steven Bear. (This is some sort of ritual with them, as soon as he comes into her house) From there, they carry on a program of running through the house pushing a trolley (shopping cart) and stroller as fast as they can while giggling at each other and achieving the sort of happiness that is only attainable to a three year old with their best friend.

But we don't just love Alexa. We love Mom H, who is one of J's musical colleagues, a fellow Anne of Green Gables enthusiast, and her most regular texting corrrespondent. And we love Dad H, who is one of the friendliest fellows you'll ever meet, was enormous help to us in the purchase and settling of our house, and is such a good Dad to his two kids that it makes you smile just to watch him with them. And, of course, we love little Lachie, who isn't quite fast enough to keep up with James and Alexa as they whirl through the downstairs, but has finally shown some signs of warming up to me after a frosty first year of screaming whenever he saw me.

They have a beautiful home about two miles down the road from us, and it's James' favorite place to visit. No matter how many times we've told him we're going to visit an aunt or an uncle, if we start a conversation by asking "Do you remember where we're going today?" he'll always give a hopeful answer of "Alexa's house?" And once we're there, he and his partner in crime start to immediately raise the conspiratorial chorus of "Can we stay for lunch? Can we stay for nap? Can we stay for dinner? Can we spend the night?"

And usually we would like to stay for lunch and nap. The company is funny, gracious, and relaxing. They eat great food, they ask interesting questions, and tell hilarious stories. In short, they're exactly the sort of grown-ups that we'd like to be. (When we grow up)

And they're exactly the sort of people that you feel great about when you drop off your little bear for the day. Apparently he jumped on the trampoline, messed about at the water table, and played a Princess board game with Alexa multiple times. But he forgot to tell her about hockey, so he wants to go back tomorrow and tell her about it, so he says.