"Mother of the year"

So you've heard me talk about Jack, the little neighbor boy about Tony's age coming over to play.

After a several day absence he showed up Saturday afternoon and wanted to play. I made myself available to their activities and had to change the course of the direction little Jack wanted to take a couple times. Instead of throwing apples at each other, why don't you see if you can get the apples into the bucket. He was clearly unenthused by this more tame idea, but since I am the adult, he complied.

Later, when I decided it was time for him to go home so we could have some family Sabbath time, he really didn't want to leave; saying it was OK with his mom if he goes where we go. I didn't buy it. (This is the same kid who said he goes to the corner Russian Baptist church, and he is clearly NOT Russian.)

I insisted the boy go home, BUT I did invite him to go with us on Sunday to shoot off model rockets. I went one step farther; I found his phone number (he didn't know it), called, and talked to his dad inviting Jack to join us. His dad was happy with the idea and stated that Jack's day was pretty open on Sunday, clearly indicating they did not attend services of any kind.

So Sunday I called Jack's home to let them know when we would be leaving, but only got the answering machine. His mom called back sometime later and wanted to know what I was talking about. It appears that Jack's dad had not communicated my invitation on to her. Even though I identified who I was, she still asked what house I was, and then said this; "Mother of the year - I don't even know who my kids play with." She said it like it was joke; like she didn't care. What could I say?

As it turned out Jack was ill and not able to come.

Wait, there's more...

Yesterday I was talking with a mother (Janice) who lives right across the street from Jack. She was at my corner waiting for the bus to drop off her first-grade daughter and preschool son. They attend a nearby Catholic school. Janice and I began talking about Jack and it turns out she has the same ideas I do; supervise play and conversation. She claimed that Jack can be really mean - tending to follow in his older brother's footsteps.

When I mentioned the "Mother of the year" statement and the tone in which it was said, all we could do was shake our heads in wonder. A mother who doesn't know where her child plays or with whom he is playing, and thinks it's a joke? Well, both Janice and I just don't get that; it is out of realm of comprehension.

Jack is just eight-years-old and in second grade. Too young to be out wandering from house to
house, I think.