Damn....errrr darn kids.

Our house is located directly between a large multi-family housing community and several of our neighborhood schools. And if there is one thing kids learn in school, it is the shortest route from point A to point B. And that route happens to pass directly in front of our house and often across our yard.

(I will not share exactly where I live and what high school because in all honesty, I am hoping we will be able to sell this house in the next 10 years and I don't want to deter any potential buyers!)

Shortly after we moved in, schools let out for summer. So it wasn't until one crisp September morning that I was enjoying an early morning cup of coffee with the windows open that I heard the voices. It was the walking equivalent of the 405 during rush hour traffic. The kids were coming. And going. All day long. Three schools. Start and end at different times. Constant traffic flow.

First we started noticing an occasional candy wrapper in the street. Then in our yard. An occasional school paper. Annoying, but easily cleaned up.

And there might have been a few times (let's be honest....lots of times) that I was running late for work (yes, dear readers, I use to have a J.O.B.) and almost ran over a few kids pulling out of the drive way.

Then there was the time that someone (read: obviously one of the "punk kids" as we started calling them) spray painted our neighbor's fence. And then painted it again. And again and again. Greg then added the graffiti hot-line to his speed dial. And then they "tagged" (graffiti lingo for those of you who live in 92660) our house. Awesome.

Then...they started with the sprinklers. The firs time we were sure it was an accident. Drunk kid walking home from school (what...you never drank at school?....neither did I. But I know people who did.) accidentally knocked over one of the sprinkler heads. So Greg fixed it. Reinforced it. And the next week....broken again. And obvious that it took force to do this. Which started an all out war with Greg and the sprinklers and the kids. A security camera tied to tazer gun was discussed at one point.

So I was forced to quit my job so Ben and I could stage a stake out in the bushes and catch these kids who were taking years off Greg's life. He was getting a little crazy about it. Not "shoot the black birds with pellet guns" crazy. But crazy.

Then there was the time I had to call 911 because there was a fight brewing in the street. Really all I saw was a loosely gathered group of people and someone shout, "hair pulling is for sissies." I didn't actually see a fight...but sensed West Side Story being reenacted so I acted...and called the cops.

Unfortunately at this point I think we have already been labeled "the crazy people that live in that house," which means Ben can not go to our neighborhood schools, or he will be labeled the kids that lives in the house with the crazy people.

But I have thought about opening a morning breakfast restaurant in the driveway to feed these kids...and make a buck or two. Let me know if you are available to work the morning shift.

I am writing all this because this morning I took the trash cans out in my PJs and was seen by some of the kids. And wanted to shout....."If you mess with my yard or house I will throw dirty diapers on your head!" And....."do you want a breakfast taco for $2?"