I really do try hard not to fill my blog with gossip about the freaky people I meet everyday but this scene just cracked me up when I got home tonight.
This 3-year-old is one of the wild kids from next door. One prime indicator that you are a bad parent: YOUR KID HAS A MULLET.
Earlier today, this kid took the gardening tools we gave our daughter for her birthday and threw them in a nearby irrigation canal. When I retrieved the tools from the water he came up to me and said, "Ha, ha. Your shoes are wet." Then he stuck out his tongue and yelled, "You can't catch me. You can't catch me." I could have caught him, of course, but I wanted to give him every opportunity to run far, far away. I told my kids to stop playing with the neighbors.
Later, I heard Ethan crying in the driveway. He told me the 3-year-old had punched him in the eye. He wasn't crying because he was hurt. He was crying because he wanted justice. But I reminded him that I had told him to stop playing with those kids earlier in the day.
While I was having this talk with Ethan, my wife was breaking up a fight between our daughter and the neighbor-boy, again, over the gardening tools. When my wife pulled the shovel out of their hands, the 3-year-old boy stuck his tongue out at her and then flipped her off. She told him to go home and started laughing about the finger gesture. Just to make good and sure, the 3-year-old boy turned and flipped her off again as he was walking home.
Tonight, he was just hanging out in his moon-boots. What fate is worse: A little jerk becoming a big jerk? Or a little jerk becoming road kill?
I'll think about it for a day. Seeing his dad smacking him in the yard isn't any consolation. Yesterday, my kids were eating popsicles on our front steps when one of the neighbor boys jumped from a moving car, TWICE, in order to avoid seeing "Nanny McPhee" at the dollar theaters with his family.
The day I move cannot come soon enough.