We have a new family in our neighborhood. They recently moved into a renovated three-bedroom fixer-upper that had been abandoned for quite some time. Our new neighbors arrived over the holidays looking shiny and optimistic. We watched as they loaded in their grand piano, art prints, antique couches, two beautiful children and a menagerie of pets.
They are the Jones family. Bob and Cynthia Jones* to be exact, along with their children Sissy and Jr.. They seemed a little quiet at first, but once the children got to playing they loosened up and I’m sure we’re all on our way to becoming good friends.
This is a picture of their house:
Now, you can’t tell from the picture, but their house sits directly next to my favorite comfy chair, so I peek in from time to time to see how they’re doing. Well, I am here to report that despite the happy facade things are amiss in the Jones house. Last night I couldn’t help but notice (especially seeing as they have yet to put up any curtains) that the stress of the move, along with the pressure of maintaining perfect hair, seems to have gotten to Cynthia.
What makes this all the more disturbing is that while Cynthia appears to be having a full on breakdown over the very idea of giving Jr. his bath, Bob appears otherwise unaffected.
Men can be such pigs. I think I will bake a tiny pie and stop over to see if I can be of any help.
*editor’s note – Please do not take any offense if your name happens to be Bob or Cynthia Jones. Beta Mom is sure that you are in fact very a well-adjusted, average-sized person who lives in a real house.