and she wouldn’t tolerate the dribbling of a soccer ball around the house as I moved from chore to chore.
To play it safe, I waited outside for weeks, just in case the new neighbors moved in early. Literally, it was weeks.
I entertained myself by playing soccer with our dog, Champ.
Mostly he’d just block because a dog can’t exactly kick and score, but once in a while he’d dribble with his nose.
The scent of a ball must overwhelm a dog, though, because Champ would eventually try to chomp it, then lose the ball to me.
When the Loskis’ moving van finally arrived, everyone in my family was happy. “Little Julianna” was finally going to have a playmate.
My mother, being the truly sensible adult that she is, made me wait more than an hour before going over to meet him.
Give them a chance to stretch their legs, Julianna,” she said. “They’ll want some time to adjust.
She wouldn’t even let me watch from the yard.
“I know you, sweetheart. Somehow that ball will wind up in their yard and you’ll just have to go retrieve it.”
So I watched from the window, and every few minutes I’d ask, “Now?” and she’d say, “Give them a little while longer, would you?” Then the phone rang.
And the minute I was sure she was good and preoccupied, I tugged on her sleeve and asked, “Now?”
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