My next door neighbors are a retired couple. He plays a lot of golf; she spends her time shopping and participating in parish and women's club activities.

She's sharp as a tack--a retired interior designer who helped me to pick out the blue I used to paint the upstairs and who is badgering me to join the board of our HOA, lest we all get hit with extra assessment fees next year.

Most of the time, he can't remember my name (or the children's)--but he's unfailingly kind, complimentary and delighted to spend time with us.

A few weeks ago, the little guy fell asleep right about the time I needed to pick the princess up from elementary school . As he only naps about half the time now (the other half he sings to himself in bed and plays with his Elmo), I was desperate not to have to wake him up. I ran next door to throw myself on her mercy...would she sit in my living room for twenty minutes while I made the run?

She wasn't home. He was. I explained why I had come over.

"Oh. She's not here...would you let me?"

I wish I had words adequate to explain the raw need I saw in his face at that moment. He told me how he used to help with his sister's children, and with his own grandchildren.

I paused for a tick and sent up a "flare prayer". What was the worst thing that could happen while I was gone? I took a deep breath and said okay. He got his paper and followed me home, settled in on the sofa, and cheerfully waved me off.

It went off without a hitch...and he welcomed us home with a hug, taking the time to sit with the princess and ask how her day was. Ironically, as he was leaving he thanked me--even though I was the one being done a favor.

We have a standing date now--his wife reports that he looks forward to the days when the little guy is napping and he gets to babysit for those twenty minutes--and talks about them for the rest of the day.

I guess we never outgrow the need to be needed.