The Big Race Was Cancelled

Back in the early spring, there was a knock on the door one Saturday morning. The rest of my family had headed out for a wrestling tournament, and I elected to stay home.

I answered the door, and this little girl, maybe 10ish stood there. Kids don't knock on the door unless they are selling something, looking for one of my kids, or telling on one of my kids. I get a lot of the latter where my youngest son is concerned.

I gave her my customary "Uhh, can I help you?" greeting when she stood there staring at me. What I didn't realize is that she was trying to reign in her brain and form a sentence.

"I've had it," she yelled. "That boy who lives here and that boy who lives there keep picking on my brother, and I've just had it."

"Umm, okay. Which boy are you talking about? Three boys live here. (I figured I'd include my husband in the count because he can be an ornery sort.) And who is your brother?"

"That boy with the blonde hair, and my brother is the little red headed boy, and they are picking on him, and they are picking on him, and I've had enough. I'm telling you that I've had enough."

There were a lot of grunts and various tics mixed in with her speech, and to be honest, she scared me a little. I was pretty sure my youngest son was involved as I continued to ask her questions. She answered me, and each response was peppered with, "I've had enough," and a move that I'm surprised didn't give her some self-inflicted whiplash. I'm guessing she's on medication for Tourette's or something.

Whatever went down, went down months before, according to my son who I later questioned. She went over to the neighbors' house as well to report her unhappiness with the situation before she talked to me.

I said I was sorry she was so upset, and mainly I was sorry because I thought she was going to blow a gasket on my front porch. Girls are unique creatures to me, even though I am one. I think sometimes when they get in that 'tween range you have to treat them like wild animals - as in sometimes not knowing if they'll attack.

She reminded me of the old woman in the "Wizard of Oz" when she peddled away on her bike with a basket and flag. She peddled with that kind of determination that no child that age should feel.

Flash forward to a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm. She was back out on her bike, this time riding by repeatedly. Sometimes, I'd catch a glimpse of her little red headed brother. My youngest was in the back yard working on his motorcycle when he came back to report that "that girl" freaked him out.

She kept riding by, and riding by. When he returned to the back yard, I heard a bit of a commotion as he had to chase both the kids away. The boy was sitting on his motorcycle and the girl kept asking him what he was doing. My son isn't a patient child, and he's prone to picking on others. I don't know where he gets it, honestly. No, not a clue.

"Mom, would you please tell her to go away?" my son pleaded with me. But what could I do? She was riding on the street. I couldn't stop her from doing that. I told him to simply ignore her, but no, that would be too easy.

Flash forward to the previous weekend. My husband and I came home to find both of our sons in the alley laughing their asses off. The oldest, who has a warped sense of humor like his mother, was laughing so hard that tears were flowing down his cheek.

The girl in question kept riding her bike down the alley, which really isn't an alley, but more like a grass path that separates our properties. The youngest yelled, "BOO," at the top of his lungs, which startled the girl, causing her to nearly wipe out.

This apparently didn't faze her because she yelled out, "Hey, you big jerks, I'm training for a big bike race on Sunday, so leave me alone."

I guess training for the bike race means stalking my sons. I think she's got a crush on them.

She continued to make her rounds this past weekend, this time, her little brother following behind her throwing rocks at my sons. He's a little guy, so this sort of surprised me that he would load up the basket on his bike with intentions of pelting my 15 and 17 year old children. This alone made me giggle. I didn't want any broken windows, but I had a good idea that my sons probably deserved it.

I was still outside when the boy pulled up on his bike. "I'm sorry guys," he said. "I know what I did was wrong, and I won't throw rocks at you anymore."

My oldest was biting his lower lip to keep from howling with laughter. The youngest didn't say anything beyond, "Uh huh," because he was trying to not laugh.

"That's nice of you to apologize," I told the boy.

"Do you boys forgive me?" he asked.

"Yes," my oldest said, and this time, he did chuckle.

I asked them what that was all about, and apparently, my oldest spawn said something like this to the poor kid, "Throw another rock at me, you little snot, and I'll call the cops on you if I so much as see you near our property again."

Then the girl comes riding up.

"Hey, lady," she said to me. "I've got a problem with your boys. They are telling me that this isn't my bicycle, and they won't let me train for my race. They are being mean to me, and I want you to make them stop."

"Is it your bike?" I asked her.

"Yes, it is MY bike," she yelled back at me.

"Well, if it's your bike, and you know it's your bike, why worry? How did the big race go?" I asked her, full well knowing there was no big race. I couldn't resist.

"It got cancelled because my dad had to do his race and there wasn't time for me to do my race, but there's going to be another one next weekend, and I'll take pictures for you because you just won't believe it. You just won't believe it."

"Well, okay then. How about you ignore my boys? They'll ignore you. Everybody will ignore everyone else, and life will be grand. How about you stop riding by taunting them, and then you won't have to worry?" I suggested.

"Well okay, how about it boys? Do we have a deal? If I ignore you, will you ignore me?" she asked my kids.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you just said because I'm currently ignoring you," my youngest said doing his best Billy Madison impression.

Of course, these neighbor kids are home schooled, and I don't think they watch much TV. It went right over her head. Actually, they are home schooled because two years ago, when they were in kindergarten and second grade, they both were kicked off the bus because the boy tried to bite the bus driver and the girl called the bus driver a bitch.

"Is it a deal or not?" she asked, very loudly, and she threw her head to the side, and I thought she was about to have some sort of fit.

"Just go home," I told her.

A few minutes later, I glanced out the window to see her riding by with her father.

I get the feeling it's going to be a long summer.