While I was folding my son Jake’s superhero pants, I couldn’t help but notice Lisa, our neighbour, moving her colourful pants around in the wind outside of Jake’s window. The show happened every day, and it made me feel torn between laughter and irritation.
Even after weeks went by, Lisa’s laundry show still caught Jake’s attention. His innocent questions about her “slingshots” and “crime-fighting gear” made me try to figure out what he meant. It was time to deal with the matter.
I walked up to Lisa and put on my best “worried neighbour” smile. She told me not to worry, told me to calm down, and even offered to help me find more stylish pants. The talk quickly became unpleasant.
I didn’t give up, so I chose to do something about it myself. That night, I made the flashiest flamingo-print granny pants I could think of. I put my work together in front of Lisa’s living room window in secret the next day.
When she got home, she lost her breath when she saw the huge pants blowing in the wind. I could feel how angry she was, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment.
The next time we met, it was a mix of anxiety and humour. Lisa told me to take down the “monstrosity,” and I did, but not before saying that I thought it gave our neighbourhood a bit of class.
Lisa finally gave in. She moved her clothes and stopped teaching me more “life lessons.” I turned the flamingo cloth into interesting curtains, and Jake learnt that as a superhero, you have to hide your pants sometimes.
For Lisa and me, our conversation was the start of an unusual friendship. A little odd behaviour is okay in our neighbourhood, and sometimes it takes a strong statement to set limits.
