A rockstar and his family have moved a few doors down from us. He’s not the kind who fills up Shea stadium, he’s children’s performer but living in Brooklyn in a baby boom, he might as well be. If you’re between 6 months and 9 years old (or a parent of one) chances are you know his body of work and have sung it for hours on long car rides and subsequently had his songs stuck in your head for days.

From what I can tell, his house is filled with boys ranging in ages from 10 to 3. I don’t know if all the kids I see playing with his doorbell are his, but they all have that long haired, skateboarding, just-stepped-out-of-a-mini-Boden-catalog vibe that makes having a boy now (or at least shopping for one) so much fun. My instinct is to bake some cookies and trot on over with pre-kblogger to welcome them to the street, but something is stopping me. I know pre-kblogger would love to play with that gang and it would help distract him from his current obsession another neighbor, an 8 year-old who understandably ignores pre-kblogger’s constant requests to play soccer, garden, or kill ants with him. But I feel like if I go over there, they are going to think we’re coming as groupies, not neighbors. And we like his music, but we’re not groupies, we’re neighbors. What would you do?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 23rd, 2006 at 9:58 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.