park ranger (?)

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hello.  this is a friendly message from the national park service. 
let's all do our part to keep our parks clean and free of trash so that our future
generations can enjoy them for years to come. 
sound familiar?

well, just call me the park ranger of our yard.  

except my version goes something like this:  hel-looo?  this is a not so friendly message from your mother.  could you  p l e a s e  put your trash - bikes - tools - sports equipment - shoes, etc where they belong?  our yard is not one big garbage can or storage facility, contrary to what you might think.  I would like to be able to enjoy the yard instead of spending my time cleaning up garbage and tripping over miscellaneous debris.  thank you very little.  pfft.

it's so unfair.  all the neighbors have these pristine yards, perfectly raked, with nary a rock out of place.  and then there's our yard.  let's just say it's easy to find.  simply look for the heap of bikes and juice boxes strewn across the yard and dirt and rocks all over the driveway and you'll know you've arrived at the right place.  grrr.

I know, I know.  what else should I expect while raising a bunch of kids, right?  get over it and deal with it already.  in fact, I think I need to find a sign for our yard that says, "caution.  family being raised here." 

in the meantime, I'll simply have to dream about perfectly manicured yards and flowers that aren't stomped on and pulled at until all that's left is a scraggly, withered, shriveled stem. 

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uh oh, who's this?  it looks like Scarlett.  and she's giving me the stink eye.  she says she hasn't made any messes out in the yard.

not yet, my girl.  not yet.  soon you'll be out there with the best of them, tossing rocks in the driveway and who knows what else.

oh well.  I guess in the end, no one will get a prize for the best kept yard.  and I'll take comfort in the fact knowing my kids got to "be kids".

so I'll just keep on dreaming.


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