…they are converging.
Recently I’ve found an abundance of stray socks in my yard, in the curb in front of my yard, in my driveway, on my porch, in the tree in front of my house, in the road where people drive…
I’m not exaggerating. This is serious.
If you could see me you would know from the look on my face that I’m not kidding around here.
The landlord didn’t tell us when we signed the lease that we’d be hosting the lost sock conference of 2010.
Now, don’t go gettin’ all in an uproar. They aren’t the lost socks from your dryer. After a little investigating and many questions we were able to get some information about what is really going on here.
Turns out it’s those neighborhood kids again. As far as I can guess, they have parents who smartly tell them to put on socks and shoes before they walk out the door to come trample our grass. Obedient little suckers, they do as they’re told. However, once they get here they all take their socks and shoes off and leave them wherever. And when it’s time for them to go home, they grab their shoes - leaving their poor socks behind to fend for themselves. And our yard is now a harbour for orphaned socks from around the block.
And I think they may be breeding.
We’re having this same issue with jackets, sports balls, plastic water bottles, notebook pages, and icy pop wrappers. But none of those things surprise me like the socks.
This has driven me crazy. When we moved in the yard was spectacular. Now it’s not quite what I would call lovely. The landlord has made comments.
Ryan and I have tried different things to keep the yard from becoming the neighborhood trash heap. First, we told our kids to tell their friends to please not leave their stuff all over the yard. In a nice way.
Then, Ryan thought maybe if he asked the kids to clean up after themselves. Cause dads are way more intimidating than friends.
Um, that didn’t work either.
Then we said just stay off the grass.
And I remind them to please stay off the grass every day.
Then I opted to become slightly scary-mom-lady. But that has only worked to make them turn and leave our yard in a rush whenever they see me coming. Which would be okay, I guess, if their haste didn’t cause them to leave all their stuff behind.
Including their socks.
Today I decided that the battle was pointless. Please pick up after yourselves just doesn’t carry the same amount of weight when it’s somebody else’s children I’m talking to. When I say that to the boys around the corner they look around at their feet, pick up a rock or a stick like they’re obediently helping, then just go home. Leaving all their stuff behind.
Including their socks.
Today I made a lost and found box. It’s a rubbermaid that sits out front during the day, and goes into the garage at night. My boys are to add stuff to it throughout the day – as they see things that aren’t ours littering our yard and the street.
It’s my last ditch effort before I do something more drastic. Like…
I don’t know what. Just something crazy.
P.S. I do love the neighborhood kids. Really.
A few hundred rogue socks hanging out in my yard isn’t likely to change how much I enjoy living in an area with tons of kids around. It’s just gives me something to blog about is all.
Can you believe I actually have a lost and found box at my house? Sheesh.
Tagged with: the neighbors
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