Going over the little art journals that Juicebox made at school and came home with today, there was a conversation:
The lady: “What does that one say, Juicebox?”
JB: “When you are old, you sit in a wheelchair.”
Me: “Well, thats not quite right. We know people that are old that aren’t in wheelchairs.:
JB: (looking and pointing) “Yeah. Like YOU, Dad.”
Close to the sound of the lady laughing off the couch.
So, this is what came home in Juicebox’s backpack yesterday:
Um…
At approximately noon today, three neighborhood children who have played with MastaG for years when we lived in the former Casatuma went into the backyard, threw a rock through a plate of my double plated back doors, put a ladder to the roof, deposited a broom and a step stool that were on the back porch up there, and flattened my garbage can with a bike.
Their ages are 9, 6, and 5.
When I got to the house to do my normal checking it out and fixing some problems thing, I noticed the glass, and went off. There was a pool of broken glass on the back porch, and a rock wedged between the standing inside plate and the broken outside one, with several rocks scattered around in the broken glass.
What bothered me more, tho, were the implications of these little bastards getting up on my roof, falling off, and breaking their stupid necks.
No, the door bothered me more. Stupid assed kids.
So, anyway, I was on the phone with the lady explaining the situation and about to call the local 5-0 when I walked around back again and found the dad of one of the kids, the 6 yr old, who I’ve always figured to be a good kid, with good parents, standing out there. He explained the situation to me. We walked over to one of the other kids house, the 5 yr old, and talked to his dad.
Apparently the kids were playing in his yard (across the street from mine), and after a while he realized they weren’t there. He heard them back behind my house, and heard the glass break, but when he got around back they scattered.
Anyway, he and the other dad are going to pay for the door. The mom of the kid I suspect of throwing the rock, however, has a history of never believing that her little delinquent angel commits transgressions to anybody but her. We’ve had issues before. I don’t expect much out of her.
I’d love to throw the police on this, but I don’t care for police, and I don’t see any reason to get these two dads in trouble when I don’t believe their kids did any more than watch this older kid break crap. Furthermore, their dads are PISSED, and I don’t see that the police would do much more good.
Still, the whole thing is bullshit. These kids that knew my kids for years, kids that I’ve fed, kids that I’ve had playing at my house, are breaking my damn back door for no other reason than that I’m not there. Little bastards.
Makes me want to get a tazer
—
That reminds me… if you’re still looking for that perfect christmas gift, may I offer a small suggestion?
So this is this morning, and Juicebox is dressed up yet again. Turns out that today is “Courtesy Day” or something at school, but apparently his dressing up yesterday was an individual effort. I’m starting to wonder if he’s not the Michael J Fox character on Family Ties…
So this morning PigpenJuicebox announced, when I tossed a necktie at MastaG to get him out of bed, that he wanted to wear the necktie, and his “marrying” outfit.
So, he dressed up for school. Isn’t he dapper?
On the way to school, we were talking about the outfit:
Me: “If you’re not careful, you’re going to get a girlfriend dressed up like that”
Juicebox: “Yep.”
Me: “What would you do with a girlfriend?”
Juicebox: “Hmmm. We would get married.”
Me: chuckle
Juicebox: chuckle
By contrast, now, here’s MastaG:
Note the general “doesn’t want to get up on Monday morning” appearance. This is normality.