Being a single mom means people feel entitled to judge you. My neighbor did it openly — he hated my son and said I couldn’t raise him properly. Then winter came, and my neighbor started icing our sidewalk!
My son took matters into his own hands to teach him a lesson. You know that feeling when you realize someone actively dislikes your child? Not in a casual way.
I mean genuine, focused dislike. That’s what living next to Mr. Halvorsen felt like.We moved in during late summer. The house was a small two-bedroom place with a yard that needed work, but it was ours. It was the fresh start I’d been fighting for ever since my husband walked out on us years ago.
My son was ten. Old enough to help with boxes, but young enough to still ask if we could paint his room blue. Mr.
Halvorsen showed up while we were moving in. He stood at the property line with his arms crossed while my son carried a lamp past him. He didn’t greet us or offer to help, just watched with an expression that made my stomach tighten even though I couldn’t have told you why.
“You two alone?” he asked when I walked by with a box of kitchen stuff. “Yep,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “Just us.”
He snorted.
“Figured.”
