Seventy Times Seven

I have been a blogging bum and I am totally ok with it sort of.

Yesterday I heard my son crying and whimpering at the top of his lungs as he was mowing the lawn and I ran out there to see what was up. Apparently he was all freaked out by the bugs in the long grass but knew he needed to finish the job. I took over and did some cutting (the second time in my life) while the Oldest stood under a tree and watched me. Before I went out there to help him mow there were kids in our yard yelling at the boy and threatening him with a pointed stick. I ran out there and told the kids to get the heck out of my yard. Apparently my kind neighbor who insults me frequently is taking in her niece who has six kids or something. It has been chaos ever since. All they do is scream and steal our stuff.

Gee whiz, when I was telling those kids off and they went running, the Oldest stopped the mower. I could have pelted him over the head, I was so mad. I have no idea how to start it and Dear Sir was already in a mood so I was not about to call him out to do it. The Oldest sort of told me how Dear Sir does it and I took that string thing and pulled. I pulled a freaking muscle is what I did. My shoulder is pretty much TOAST now. I went to swim today in the pool and winced at every stroke I took. Gee whiz.

So--yes, these kids keep taking Eraser Eater's bike. We came home this morning to the kid riding his bike and I stopped in the middle of the street and rolled the window down. "Put the bike back!!!!" I yelled.

The kid just looked at me and rode back to the house.

When he dropped the bike to the ground I said, "I hope you understand that is stealing. You can't just take my son's bike without asking. And if you ask and I say no, that means no."

He just walked off.

Then about fifteen minutes later as I was on the treadmill the Girl comes in and tells me the kid came back again and heisted the bike. I almost blew up, I was so angry. Two miles into my run and I have to get interrupted, I am not a happy woman. I stormed out there, yelled at the kid again, and he came back with the bike. I went to talk to him. I said, "What do you think you are doing?"
"I don't know."
"I told you not to take the bike."
He shrugged.

I got my shed keys and took every stinking bike, scooter and toy you can find in the yard and locked them up. That ends that.

Yesterday the kid took the bike periodically through the day and then Dear Sir told the boy he needed to return it and so he did. Then the boy approached and asked if he could borrow the bike. Dear Sir said no. The boy asked again. Dear Sir said no. The boy rang the bell at the door and asked again. Dear Sir said, no means no.

Limits, anyone?