I heard the sounds of our neighborhood kids plotting before I left the garage, and when I rolled down the driveway, I realized the sounds were coming from our front yard. Three boys crouched in the grass, armed with Nerf rifles, holding conference. They stopped when my screeching brakes caught their attention, and I locked eyes with the oldest one for a brief moment.

The first thing that popped into my head was, literally, "Hey, you kids, that's my yard!" Thankfully, before I became the stereotypical 'get off my lawn'er, I just laughed and kept biking.

On relating this story to a friend over coffee, we decided it would be perfectly acceptable if I grew up to be the sort of person who sat on my front porch with a cane and a bowl of pistachios, crunching on nuts and yelling at kids for getting off my lawn. Inevitably, I would confiscate a slingshot and use it to ping wandering children with empty shells.

I suppose this means I should start practicing with a slingshot again.

01 March 2014 19:39

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