Uh, I don’t know.

What is in the water? Or the air around here. Today has been a bit crazy and busy. Usual stuff: errands, change a diaper, phone calls, change a diaper, work on some files, change a diaper, nurse to soothe Bairno’s tummy, more spreadsheets and financial management for impending decisions, change a diaper, run some errands, need to change a diaper (waits until we get home), eat lunch, drink a Dr. Pepper, change a diaper, hear an tummy churning, wait for explosion, change another diaper, and the list goes on, realize that was the last clean cloth diaper, run to Waldemort to buy throwaways for ease of use while the washer and dryer do their duty, run to carpool line, hear another tummy churn, speed home, put Bairno down to change him, watch him drift quickly off to sleep.

Are you exhausted yet? I am. I decide I am in for the day so I change in to my lovely red carpet sweats and very old, but comfy, T-shirt (from 1985). Yes, my dearies, you read that right. It is just now getting broken in.

DOINK!

History Lesson: We have a neighbor who has a grandchild who comes to visit every now and then. He is also homeschooled so travel to here for them easily follows no formal calendar of events. I have spoken about this child before. What I have left out were a few familiar thing about him. He has some form of developmental delay, he is physically small (He was adopted from Georgia), and I understand most of his emotional challenges, but the last time he was here he was rough with the younger children, he refused to follow any of our rules, broke some (expensive, gifted) toys that we can not replace, and talked some smack to SmockDaddy. I try to be as understanding as I can, remember yesterday’s post – I get it and I know how hard it can be and I want people to be accepting to my child, but Don’t you go talkin’ smack to us, boy.

DOINK!

Today, he came to the door more times than I can count to ask if the children can play, mainly Goro. Now, when I tell a child that they are not here and they won’t be back for a few hours I do not expect him to knock again in 10 minutes. I was as pleasant as I could be until I finally had to tell him to go home and not to come back. Nothing I said was sinking in. We got back from our afternoon carpool run and I was actually relieved to see they were not home. Thirty minutes later they drove up and he came straight over to our house. Ugh. So not in the mood for this. There were chores being done and so I had my excuse (current chore – picking up all the toys and bricks they scattered throughout the back yard as well as the limbs that had fallen from the recent storm). So what does he do, goes to the gate to ask if they can come out and play (this was after he had knocked on the door and I told him they were doing chores and hearing him call me and ass when I shut the door). What was up with that? My son decided to tell him, “You do not deserve to come play over here with us because of the way you acted last time and treated our things so poorly and for calling my mama an ugly word because I heard you.”

Whew. A part of me swelled with a bit of pride for that last part, but I couldn’t overlook the first part. Not so nice and a bit out of line. Caleb had sped off on his bike by the time I got over to my son to discuss his choice of words. He decided to sit on the porch and wait for Caleb to ride back by on his bike. As soon as my boy saw him coming from down the street he took off on his scooter to catch him and apologize. Caleb said he understood and he wouldn’t act that way again so I decided to let them play in the front yard (read: where I could watch them from my office window). Things are going fairly well, but I can tell it’s time for some separation for the evening.

Shortly after they started playing in the front yard Mog and Birdie ran in from the back yard yelling, “There’s someone in our yard!” I’m thinking: duh, and probably had a blank stare on my face. Then they make it clear there is a STRANGER in our back yard. What?!? And the dog hasn’t killed him? and he is back there with the three youngest children? I figure it was a joke on me. So I get up, walk to the back yard and low and behold there is some child of about 11 years I have never met standing in my yard staring back over the back fence. Here is the exchange:

Me: Do you need something?

Him (in his best 11 year old confused monotone): Uh, I don’t know.

Me: What are you doing?

Him: I don’t know.

Me: Did you lose something?

Him: I don’t think so?

Me: How did you get in our yard?

Him: I climbed the fence and jumped over.

Me: Is there something I can do for you?

Him: I don’t know.

Me: Well, why don’t you climb back over the fence now.

Him: OK, yes, Ma’am.

And he did. Just in time, as the dog now noticed him in our yard.

Mog decided to go to the fence where she saw a neighbor boy she knew to see what was going on: Boy wants some Warheads from his friend (also known neighbor boy – Garrett). Garrett makes plan. Garrett dares Boy to jump into yard before he shared his Warheads. Boy wants Warheads, Boy takes dare, Boy gets caught, Boy gets embarrassed, Boy jumps back over fence and eats Warheads.

Boys.