Many years ago, when my children were young, my five-year-old son became close friends with the boy next door. The neighbours boy was seven, and soon enough they were inseparable in their play. My youngest, only three at the time, always wanted to join in, and all together they played splendidlyno arguments, just a tremendous jumble of toys left behind.
One weekend, my husband, daughters, and I were enjoying a quiet afternoon playing a board game in the sitting room. My son wandered in and asked whether he and his friendand his younger brothermight play indoors. The weather was beautiful, and we hoped for peace as we finished our game, so I replied, No, not today. Only later did I learn it was the neighbours boy who was keen to come inside, encouraging my son.
Half an hour passed before the trio returned, pleading to be let inside. I told them, Go on, play outdoors! There are plenty more toys in the garden than we have indoors. But my son insisted, Mum, I just want to show him our homejust a quick look! Reluctantly, I agreed. After the quick tour, the neighbours boy refused to leave, asking, Can we play inside? I stood my ground. No, lads, out you goits warm and fine outside.
The next day, a delivery arrived with clothes for our daughters. We took the parcels and headed off for the girls to try their new dresses. Suddenly, without so much as a knock, the neighbours boy barged in and made straight for the bathroom. Our lounge was doubling as a changing room, with no door for privacy, and we certainly hadnt anticipated visitors. I called after him, Please leavethe girls are getting changed. He barely acknowledged me, saying simply, I need to. He hurried into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. I was startled, honestlyhis home was just over the garden fence, and itd have taken him less than a minute to reach his own toilet. But no, he insisted on ours. Later, I asked my son how his friend could just walk in without permission. He replied, I told him it was okay, and that was the end of it.
The following day, my youngest was sat on the potty while his older brother and the neighbours boy had gone out to play. Five minutes later, the neighbours boy came backagain, no knockingdeclaring, I need the toilet. I explained, Its in use. He looked into the open door, saw the little one, and said, What? I answered, My brothers there. He hesitated momentarily, then wandered back out towards the door.
I helped my youngest finish and closed the bathroom door. But not a moment later, there came a persistent knocking. Open up, I need a wee! I assumed hed gone back home, but no. I can’t, I responded. Why not? he asked, bewildereda genuine childs candour. I told him, I need to use it myself. If youre that desperate, you should go home. Silence followed for a few minutes, and then again: Will it be much longer? I really need to go.
There I was, dealing with a neighbours child insisting on the use of our bathroom, pressing me out of my own house. I repeated, Just go home, you live nearby. At last he relented, hurried off, and moments later, was back playing in our garden.
I asked my five-year-old, What would you do if you needed a toilet at someone elses house? He said, Id run home and come back to play afterwards. That answer reassured me.
The neighbours boy was pleasant enough, not mischievous, but oddly oblivious to boundaries. Its a sensitive issue, and I wasnt sure how to address itI feared damaging their childhood friendship, yet I didnt believe it wise to simply allow such disregard for family limits.
What would you have done in my place?
