The Neighbor Kids

At first I was excited that my oldest made friends with the children next door.

He needed friends his own age in the neighborhood to play with, to ride bikes with, to get in trouble with.

Up until these friends it was just he and his younger brother playing together and, if you read this blog on any sort of regular basis, you know that his younger brother sucks something awful. So when he started going over to his friends’ yard to play I was super excited.

“Yes! Go play! Have fun!”

Then they started coming over to our yard to play.

And trying to come into our house.

And knocking on our door and asking if Lloyd can come out to play.

My son’s name isn’t Lloyd.

And if I say, “No, he’s doing his homework and then we’re eating dinner,” they leave and then come back ten minutes later to ask if “Lloyd” is done with his homework and dinner yet.

Then they try knocking on a different door to ask if he can come out as if other doors to our house will have different worlds behind them where homework and dinner are already done or don’t exist at all.

The nice thing about this though is that it proves to me that all children of a certain age are kind of dumb and annoying, not just mine.


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