Waiting for other shoe to drop

I don't know why that phrase is supposed to notify you of my impending sense of doom. Why aren't we waiting for another elevator to drop, or airplane or something else large and capable of causing great harm? Ellen? Help!

But I digress.

Things are going swimmingly here. Grace has made friends with the neighbor kids across the street, one of whom stuck his hand out and said, "welcome to the neighborhood" upon meeting me. He's ten.

There are twins who are 8 and their aforementioned older brother. All three came over tonight to party at the Lechners and they immediately split up into boys and girls groups. The two older boys played with Abe for an hour (I had the monitor on so I could make sure they weren't torturing him) and Grace and her new friend played webkinz. I have no idea why two older boys would play so nicely with a two year old but they were so kind and gentle with him. They gave him his first nickname from another kid "Curly fries." It was really sweet.

So why am I waiting for the other shoe to drop? Because it also going so well, it's a touch frightening. I suppose I should just embrace it and I am sure I will soon. I will drink the (nonalcoholic) kool-aid that makes people so gosh-darned-nice here and I will move at a more leisurely pace and lose my hard edge earned from more than a decade of living with a New Yorker in the Northeast, honed by many dark Maine winters.