Night Shift

I'm an Early Bird.  I love early mornings in the summer, when the windows are open and I hear nothing but birds, crickets and the occasional car passing by.  I wake up, make some coffee, and head out to my back porch to enjoy--

AAAAACK!  What happened to my back porch?  It looks like a war zone!  The floor is littered with ice-pop wrappers, plastic swords, foam swords, light sabres and Nerf weapons of all kinds.  Add in a Tinker-toy archery set and a few magnetic letters that fell off the refrigerator door, and you're walking through a 14x21 minefield.

For once, the Street Urchins are not responsible for this mess.  This time, it was the teenagers.  A bunch of Sixteen's friends were hanging out on the porch last night, and I could hear all kinds of strange noises out there, but I chose not to investigate.  I was tired and cranky; since I'm an Early Bird, I'm not good for much after 8:30 PM.

Teenagers, I've found, like to act all big and tough until they're turned loose around a younger child's toys.  Suddenly they're just big, goofy kids--as long as parents aren't watching.

From the looks of things, the light-sabre team won the skirmish against the foam swords.  In fact, the foam swords have probably fought their last battle.  That's too bad, because they're among the most-used toys around here--and remember, my youngest child is 10 years old.  Even Twenty's friends have been known to pick up a sword and prepare for battle.

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