Are kids good for anything, except emptying your wallet and filling your ears?

Neighbors are rattling my cage again.  I actual had to write a letter to someone living next door.  I tell you, in this day and age of twitter, FB and Google nudging someone four hundred feet away is outrageous.  Here’s the letter:

Dear People in the weird, round house,

Little David is a very sweet boy, {This is a lie.  Just buttering them up} but I’m going to have to ask you to please keep him on your side of the fence.  Yesterday he climbed over the fence four times, and I’m afraid he will hurt himself or tear up the fence, again.

I know that he irresistibly drawn to the new puppy, but my older dogs are not use to children.  He makes them bark incessantly, which drives me crazy, and I’m not sure how the dogs will react, particularly if he chases them, as he is wont to do. {INSERT:  I’m really kind of surprised that they didn’t bite him.  I would have.  I would have surrounded him like a pack of wolves. Grr.}

Also, I had to tell him three times not to go near the pool and not to go in the garage.  He even tried to wedge his way into the doggy door.  Our house, yard and pool are not really childproof.  And, I must confess that I am not good with children. My only son was naturally a very quiet boy–lucky for me–and I am not into the screaming thing, but little David doesn’t seem to hear anything said in a normal tone.

Hope this letter doesn’t make you mad.  {INSERT: I really don’t care if it does.} That’s not my intention.  Just diverting trouble in advance.

Thanks a Lot


So, is that too much?  It is?  Well, good.  I do like to think that I can get my point across.  Of course, I could have written a shorter version.  Something like–Hey, can you keep your stupid kid out of my yard?  But one does have to follow certain social proprieties.  Of course, most of the time I only give social proprieties a glancing blow–as in blow-on-this, Dum-wad.

This kid drives me bonkers.  Every time he spots me in the backyard he flies to the fence on wings of childhood ignorance and begins to jabber incessantly.

“Can I hold the puppy…can I hold the puppy…I won’t drop him again…can I hold the puppy…can I hold the puppy?”

Did I tell you…despite my cool exterior, this kind of repetitive, inane yakking causes the muscles in my left blephar (eyelid) to spasm?


Old men and young boys are always crazy about me.  I don’t get it.  I think it has something to do with my voice, which is rather high and soft.

Well, I must go slip this into the round-house mail box.  When kindergarten lets out that kid will rush up and over the fence like a Mexican cockroach. (or a New York cockroach, if Mexican offends you.  Whatever.  What’s the difference? A roach by any other name is still a roach, so to speak, and an exuberant, inquisitive brat is still a brat.)

Author’s Note:  You know, in my day, if I disturbed my parents or the neighbors in such a fashion, I’d be looking for some salve to put on my butt before bedtime.  I remember that there was this old oak tree that we tied a string around.  We (us kids) knew that we had to get that far away from the house before we could cut-up.  As I remember it was about a 100 yards away from the house and the barn, but then everything is bigger, wider, farther and a lot more fun in my memory.


5 thoughts on “Are kids good for anything, except emptying your wallet and filling your ears?

  1. Practice speaking loudly and lowering the pitch of your voice. *Order* the kid out of your yard. Add a polite addendum to the letter (if you haven’t already sent it on its way) hinting that you hope not to have to take any extreme measures. It’s your yard, damn it, and you really don’t have to remain polite if the selfish idiots won’t keep their brat at home.

    • Actually, I was trying to be polite, but that has passed. My husband is possessor of the big, booming voice and intimidating presence. I like to think of our marriage as a Beauty and the Beast thing or brains and brawn relationship. whahah!

      Good news. I haven’t heard a peep from the boy since I wrote the letter. Hopefully, that’s the end of it. The weekend will tell the tale.

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