It's that time of year again, when my windows are open and the neighborhood kids are outside.
Just overheard this in my backyard, while I sat in the sunroom, out of view:
(wheel grinding noise)
"Quit it! Get away from there! [exasperated noise] Do we even know the people who own that property? No. They [mumble mumble mumble]."
Indeed I do, kid. Indeed I do.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
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2 comments:
We are going to have to start calling you Mr. Wilson.
Errr, Ms. Wilson.
In related soon-to-be-wearing-a-house dress news from this weekend.
Amanda running around park, working out, picking up plastic bottles, recycling them. Sees kids sitting on just-fixed tennis net. "Hey, don't sit on that." Kids jump up, apologize, scatter.
Amanda tells them to keep playing, just don't sit.
Takes more bottles to recyclable bin.
Runs back up stairs, sees kids STOMPING on glass bottles under park shelter, without thinking, yells:
Stop, you're going to cut yourself (and make it mighty difficult for me to try and pick up that glass)
Oblivious dad, who's been yammering on cell phone, yells:
They're just kids.
Amanda yells back, "It's glass dude. Not a moonbounce. I don't want them to get hurt."
Dad, back into phone : Mumble, mumble, mumble, "skinny white bitch" mumble mumble mumble.
Happy Saturday!
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