K Is For Kinky

Way back when we were young parents, we lived in an 800 square foot brick house.  It was so cute in it's smallness, and being as we only had a two year old and an infant, we fit in it just fine.

My favorite place to sit was on the front steps.  My son would play in the yard, periodically running up to the sidewalk to peer down the street, looking for Daddy's truck to appear (because that is what we were all waiting for!), while I sat on the steps, usually nursing my daughter.

Yes.  We are those kind of people.

Our next door neighbor was a nice enough older woman, who kept to herself, and that suited me just fine because I kept to myself, except for the occasional (okay, all the time) staring into her kitchen as I stood in my kitchen washing the dishes.

I discovered quickly that she had a gentleman caller.  And then I discovered that his name was Kinky.

Really?  Okay, I knew then that my front porch nursing was not going to be a problem with the neighbors!

I later learned, through my Mom who knew his daughter, that it was a nickname (thank goodness) due to his curly hair (thank goodness again!)

For the year and a half that we lived there, we enjoyed their non-meddlesome, non-judgmental, neighbor-ness!

This post was inspired by prompt #3 at Mama's Losin' It! while still trying to do the A to Z challenge!