We’ve got some teenagers and some kids that look to be about 9 maybe. Sometimes I hear the younger kids, who I think are siblings, playing down at the end of the street. We’re on a very long cul de sac in a subdivision of doublewides out in the country. Our house is close enough to the road going by that we can see it from our front windows. We also have some wandering dogs out here that will fight among themselves. About a month and a half back Rich and I were out there and two chow mixes went after each other in the street in front of our house.

I forced myself on my neighbor across the street a few months back, once the winter weather broke and I noticed people coming out of hibernation. My mom was down from NJ, so I left her with the kids and walked across the street and introduced myself. I know her well enough to call if I need anything now, but she and her husband have no kids.

When I was a kid we all played together on my street. It didn’t matter how old anyone was. We played as a group constantly, and everyone’s parents were friendly too. I miss all of that. We had block parties often as well.

You know you can introduce yourself to the neighbors at any time, right? I’m going to assign that to you for the holiday weekend. Go meet one neighbor. Baby steps.

I don’t even know my neighbor’s names. I know the name of the dog across the street. That’s about it. I fail.

http://www.brickhousesecurity.com/locator.html?gclid=CIjtrNuWzqICFQQtawodvxxTxA

Among others.

It’s out of control. I do agree with Doyce that we can’t smother, but I also know that we’re under alert in this area now once again that someone has been trying to snatch kids.

One thing that IS different from 1978, in my estimation, is that these days people are less likely to get involved. For many reasons.

There was a pretty popular blogger with a publication, Lenore Skenazy, who caught a shitload of flack for letting her 9-year-old son ride the subway home by himself. He viewed it as something of a rite of passage, and he wanted to do it. Lenore and her husband spoke it over, and agreed they felt he was ready.

After she made sure he knew how to get home, had a metro card, a subway map, twenty bucks, change for the payphone, and all the life lessons she as a parent was responsible for providing him, she left him at Bloomingdale’s, went home, and waited for him. He got home fine, proud as punch and probably a lot more confident in himself about an hour later.

Then she blogged about it for her publication.

Holy shit, media tempest.

She was accused of irresponsible parenting and negligence. Sometimes even by her friends. So much even that she was asked to come on the Today show where she was harangued by a “parenting expert” about why she’s suddenly America’s Worst Mom.

I heard about this through Penn & Teller’s Bullshit episode on stranger danger. Really made me reconsider some of my viewpoints.

I told her she will wear this until she learns to listen to me about this.

The “leash” tail hooks to the backpack, so it’s going this way-

We go out with the harness on. Today even it was put to the test as she tried to walk away several times, and the tug at my hand alerted me to say, “Stay right here Livvie. You stay with me. You do not walk off.”

When we get past that point I will unhook the tail and carry it in my pocket. If she wanders, the tail will go right back on.

Her communication skills are below her age level. When I was her age, and I wandered from my mom I knew to find an adult (actually Customer Service) and ask for help. She’s still uncomfortable with answering questions, so if some random nice stranger found her she wouldn’t know how to help them help her find me.

And her ass is going in martial arts classes as soon as she’s ready.

Except we were going to the doc and Nick had a meltdown right in the middle of Taylor street — that’s two lanes in both directions, everybody doing maybe 40 in the posted 30 trying to beat the next light. So I couldn’t leave him there. I got him from behind, around the torso as best I could, and hauled him to the curb, with him scratching at my face and headbutting me the whole way.

Somebody must have seen a grown man hauling a kid out of the street, so, of course, the cops showed up, lights and siren going, which REALLY helped, because Nick has severe auditory sensitivity issues. And there I am with blood on my face and my t-shirt ripped down to my navel and Nick screaming like a banshee and trying to get away and the cops telling me to let go of the kid and me telling them I can’t do that. I finally got tem to shut off the damn siren, and Nick burnt himself out a little, and I explained the situation. They checked my ID, and they called the doc’s office, and they confirmed Nick had an appointment there, and one of the cops asked Nick who I was, and at the tops of his lungs, Nick screamed, “THAT’S BUTTHOLE!” and the other cop said “I think it’s his Dad,” and they let us go on our merry way. Doc gave me a scrub shirt to wear home.