THOSE POOR GIRLS

I made the mistake of stopping by the house I grew up in back at Christmas, just for kicks.
Two little girls answered the door. I asked to speak to their dad. He came to the door, a humorless, mean, stout looking man with no expression on his face at all. He dfidn't exactly refuse to shake my hand, he just left me hanging.
Told him my story, how I'd grown up in this house.
"I planted that Redbud tree there" as I tuned to point to a huge tree in the center of his yard "It was a foot tall back in 71, had only one leaf!"
All I got was a blank stare.
"I love what you have done with the flower beds here, really nice!" I said, and gave him my best smile.
His frown deepened and he looked past me as if searching for my accomplice or perhaps a police officer he might flag down.
I mentioned how the front doorway looked great, there were new doors...
Admired the brick mailbox, asked had he done it himself.
He shook his head no and continued to stare me down.
Finally as I turned to leave, I asked if his girls went to Shady Oaks Elementary where I had gone to school so many years ago...
"No, we home school them" he says.
That explained everything.
Those poor girls.