I understand that it takes a village to raise a child, especially when you need funding. But try yelling at someone else’s kid and see how that village thing works out.

There is a family down the street that apparently has a couple stupid kids. I don’t really know the kids, but the mother has two three-foot tall neon green plastic things that proclaim, “Slow Children Playing” and she put them in the way of people driving right on the road where they belong.

I don’t really know if her kids have gotten a bit quicker or if they are still slow and inept, but I haven’t see the neon green stuff out in the road this year. Perhaps the kids were told what the printing on the things said and they were embarrassed to be proclaimed as SLOW.

Green guy looks something like this.

But this woman, who can’t watch her own kids and expects the entire planet to cater to her needs, is still bugging the crap out of me.

Yeah, I know. Seems like that would be next to impossible. But there you have it.

She waters her lawn. She doesn’t have an irrigation system, but she actually turns on a sprinkler each morning and then comes out later and turns it off.

I wouldn’t really mind at all if she just watered her lawn, but she also waters the sidewalk so she can get the 18 inches of grass on the other side of the cement. It overflows on to the street by about three feet, too.

She does this watering stuff while I’m trying to walk. And she doesn’t seem to understand that putting the sprinkler at right angles to the pavement means that it is impossible to use the sidewalk while she is watering it.

If she simply turned the sprinkler to be parallel to the sidewalk, I could walk past while the spray was off the sidewalk. But as it is, it is never off the sidewalk. So I have to go out into the street. Sometimes she gets me only leaving or returning, sometimes she gets me in both directions.

Apparently, she thinks this is a dangerous portion of street. See above about the slow kids thing. Last summer, she put her two green guys out in the morning and took them back in after nightfall. It didn’t matter if her precious children were outside or not, but the dang green guys sure were.

All summer, I wished we still had the Bonneville with the Catalina front end (unless we had a Catalina with a Bonneville front end) so I could hit the damn things. That car would have made mincemeat of her plastic litter.

This year, the green guys are safely tucked away in her garage. I know this because today she left the garage door open.

I would love to see her outside in the morning to I could explain to her that making me walk three feet into the street to avoid her watering venture isn’t really a nice thing. I’m out at 6 in the morning when drivers are hurrying toward work and might still be on their first cup of coffee and not very alert. If that portion of the street was dangerous to her children, surely it is dangerous for me to be forced into the road. Her kids were never forced into the road.

I’m not sure how slow you have to be to learn the meaning of “Stay out of the street.” My kids both learned it, but we lived on a street with a speed limit of 35 MPH rather than this highway where the speed limit is 25 and people complain about the SUVs with “Baby on Board” signs speeding through.

Perhaps I should just walk into her yard and turn the damn sprinkler upside down and walk past on the sidewalk. Or maybe she will give me one of her green guys to carry with me into the street.