Before the contract on our house was final, my neighbors reported that the buyers were coming around asking them questions. Typical questions for the most part, the same questions we asked before committing. Two weeks ago Laurie next door told me that the woman asked her if we were nice, because she wanted to ask us if she could bring her three-year-old son over to see the house. So I looked them up in the phone book and asked her to bring him over. She came by yesterday with the three-year-old and his three-month-old brother, and I am really glad she did. She is in love with our house. They are going to keep the paint colors, and they collected shells on vacation last week so they could have a Galveston-themed guest bathroom like ours (her husband is from Galveston). I am happy that they will be adopting our house, because they will fit in great (the block will now have twelve kids under twelve), and appreciate it.
Her older son is very cute, looks a lot like Nico at three. She showed him his new room (our office), and the jacuzzi tub (which he had been excited about). But mostly, he was interested in our stuff. My guitar, our pipe collection, my butterflies and rocks, and especially my old darning egg. She kept telling him that he was not allowed to touch things, it was not his house yet. And while it was good that she was able to prepare him somewhat for a big life change, I think he was a little confused.

As they left, he said “Mom, when this is my house, can I touch the egg?”.