
On Sunday, while chatting on the phone and looking casually out a window along the front of our house, I spied four little neighborhood kids playing beside our front yard. Not IN the front yard, per se, but on the sidewalk that borders it. They had a dodge ball and were playing something like cricket with their hands. Four out of five balls they struck wound up rolling up into our grass and one of them would gleefully run up to retrieve it, getting more and more excited each time it went further into the lawn.
Such a happy little scene. I decided it was time to put an end to that shit.
I strolled out to the front patio and watched them nonchalantly, with the phone still to my ear. The smallest girl (probably 5) eyed me nervously as I stood there quietly. The oldest boy (I'm guessing he's 11 or 12) continued to take pitches from his presumed sister. The two of them are loud little bohemians. I can't say they're particularly malicious or rude little kids, but good God they're loud! Our next-door neighbors and we comment on how loud the kids are. They're Chinese and, frankly, the entire family is friggin' loud. They stand two feet from each other and just shriek. I'm sorry, but there's nothing intriguing, subtle or romantic about that language. It sounds like cats being put through a metal press to me.
So, the kids hit two or three more balls up into the yard. I spoke out to them with a "Hey." Not a shouting reprimand, just trying to get their attention. A fourth kid who was playing with them, a scrawny Indian boy of probably 7 or 8, stood to attention. The two little Chinese kids kept playing, seemingly oblivious.
After the next hit, I made eye contact with the hyper boy as he circled up through the newer portion of the lawn. Adding volume, I informed him "I really don't want you guys playing in my lawn. It's new grass and I don't want you tearing it up." Which is only half true. It IS new grass, but we've passed the danger point when you can't walk on it. I didn't need to tell them that. Our position on the corner of the intersection seems to invite people to think that our front lawn is common area. The neighborhood landscapers frequently short cut across it, leaving big tire imprints in my manicured cutting pattern with their mowers. I've seen people let their dogs nose around in the lawn. I'm not about to have these deafening rugrats lay claim to my yard.
Acknowledging my instruction, the boy bellows and gestures wildly "OKAY, LET'S MOVE BACK UP THE SIDEWALK AND BLAH BLAH BLAH." The thing is, he lives across the street. Moving 10 feet up the sidewalk will undoubtedly result in them meandering back into my grass. So I say, "What's wrong with YOUR yard?" To their credit, they took the hint quickly. They scrambled across the street to go molest the ears and landscaping of the families over there.
As I walked back into the house, I realized that I was just a few words shy of being the "Hey you kids, get off my lawn!" guy. But, you know what? I've got no problem with that.