Two weeks in our new home now and my son has already waged a war with the boys on the other side of the street. He refers to them as the "cussing kids" because they apparently curse like sailors when they are playing at the park. I, being the very best mother in the world, decided to go down to the park when all of the boys are out just to see what we are up against... and if anyone was cussing I was going to grab them by their shirt collar and in my meanest-teeth clenched voice say: "Don't you know who I am? I am your worst nightmare." Then I would throw rocks at them, TP their houses and have pizzas delivered to their house at all hours of the night. You have to know how to fight 10 year old boys...
Yesterday I went down to the park and all the boys were being sweet as pie because there was a Grandma there. I thought that maybe she had heard of the cussing kids reputations and was there to open a can of Grandma whoop-ass on them. I walked over to her, thinking I was walking over to a kindred spirit, a woman who would have my back, a team member, but she had never heard of these boys cussing. In fact, she thought all of these boys were just the sweetest, kindest and most well-behaved boys she had ever laid eyes on. I knew at that very moment that I was going to be dealing with some horrible, terrible, obnoxious boys... the kind that can pull the wool over a little old lady so masterfully. They reminded me a little of myself when I was a kid, but we aren't talking about me here, we are talking about the surly gang of 10 year old misfits that roam my middle class neighborhood looking to get into a gang fight... or something like that.
I staked out the park for a good hour and nothing happened. My back was getting tired of sitting on hard benches and my butt had a permanent diamond pattern embedded in it from the recycled plastic that these benches were made out of. Even when they were well behaved I knew which one was the ring leader. He was a boy that reminded me of the character "Biff" in the "Back to the Future" films. I knew he was just waiting me out and the moment I left the cussing and bullying would begin.
I started thinking of how bad there benches were for people with hemorrhoids, and not that I HAVE hemorrhoids, but I definitely did not want to tell my doctor that the reason why I need hemorrhoid surgery is because I sat on a recycled park bench with little holes in it for so long that my butt started to become one with the bench... so I went home.
Before I left I walked over to the grandma and said good-bye. She told me she would be on the look out for any cursing. I thanked her and as I turned to leave my son tripped and fell. As he did, he yelled "Oh SHIT!" I saw the Grandma lift one of her eyebrows and tisked her little dentured mouth. I grabbed my son by the collar and said, "You don't cuss! I don't give a CRAP who you think you are!" Then I walked home without looking back.
I hate being the new neighbor on the block.