I fear for the puppies. Inevitably, they are going to get hit by a car.
I watch the boys. It appears that the mother works days, and the father works nights. During the day, when the father is sleeping, the oldest boy (who just turned 11) is tasked with caring for the two younger boys. Two neighbors and I were discussing this. The woman said, "He's not doing a very good job of it." I said that I wouldn't expect him to, being just a child himself.
The thing is that there is a playground group that meets right across the river. Since the two younger boys are too young for the program, the older boy cannot go either. It's got to be a pretty boring summer for him.
Unfortunately, this is the sort of thing that Child Protective Service seems unwilling to handle. There's no actual abuse happening that I can see, and they are burdened with cases that do involve those awful circumstances, but I keep thinking that there is no reason that two little boys can't come over and play in our yard for the day. There is no reason that I cannot make them a sandwich at lunchtime. Make certain that they are dressed.
Everyone is telling me that this is such a bad idea, that I should simply stay out of it.
I'm not sure that I can, though.
I remember being a single mother, trying to sleep days, with all three kids out of school for the summer. Although my own were much older, (the youngest was 6, the oldest 14), I remember how awful I felt about it. I knew they were bored and left to their own devices too much.
I felt like a shit parent, but there was no help. My parents had made the decision that I'd made my bed, etc. etc. It struck me as strange thinking. My then husband was in prison. No matter what they thought of me and my choices, there were three grandchildren who were blameless.
I look at the situation across the street and I find myself thinking back to those desperate days.