How to Win at a Real Life Pissing Contest.

This ongoing debacle with our neighbor kids has finally come to fruition. I knew that eventually I was going to say something to one of the moms, and I was really hoping I’d be able to restrain myself enough to not say things that were too demeaning to be retracted later (later, meaning when I decided I wasn’t mad anymore). Not that this has ever happened before or anything.......

But, I had a secret weapon. I’ll get to that later…

I let the dog out the other day, and as I turn to go back inside, I see a different neighbor outside, who loves to play with my dog. So I wave and we start chit-chatting. I notice that the “other kids” are outside playing a big game of softball as well. Almost rehearsed, Brandon and Logan come flying out the back door, yelling to the “other kids” as they leap across the backyard.

B & L: “Can we play?! Can we play?!”

“Other Kids”: No, we’ve been sick, so we can’t play.”

I’m just as confused as Brandon and Logan. Their moms are outside, sitting next to each other in lawn chairs, and it’s almost as if their laugh was cued perfectly to come right after one of the “other kids” made that comment.

Then, I blew up like a big zit on a teenager’s pimply face.

I walk over and say to the “other kid,” “Oh, you poor thing, you’re sick? You don’t look sick. What’s wrong?”

She looks at me like a deer in headlights. “Uh….. Mommy?” And she runs off.

I walk over to Mommy.

Me: “Wow, your 'other kid' looks pretty good for being so sick she can’t play with my boys.”

“Other Mom”: “She’s not sick.”

Me: “I know.”

[30 seconds of silence]

Me: “What’s the deal? Did my kids offend you in some way? You never let them come over and play with your 'other kids.'”

“Other Mom”: “Well, we just don’t think that Brandon is mature enough to play with my 'other kid,' and he needs to practice for his baseball tournament this weekend.”

Okay, TIMEOUT!

First, my son isn’t “mature enough”? What the bleepity bleeping bleep is THAT supposed to mean? Her son is 7. Mine is 6. And a half. They're kids!! They're supposed to be immature. Plus, he’s playing softball with plastic bats and 2 year olds as outfielders. How is that practicing and why wouldn’t my son fit in just like white on rice?

I could instantly feel adrenaline rushing to my head, and once again, it took all my energy not to body slam that woman to her wood deck.

Her all-star baseball player in question comes walking over.

“All Star Plastic Bat Baseball Playing Little Twit”: “Brandon’s mean. He bit me.”

Me: “Oh, really? Where? Let me see it.”

“All Star Plastic Bat Baseball Playing Little Twit”: “Uh… it was a long time ago.”

Me: “Well, I’m sure Brandon would tell you he is sorry if you would let him come over. And I promise it will never happen again. If it does, I’ll let you bite me.” [The only way I know how to make light of a situation is to crack stupid jokes. It usually works. USUALLY.]

“Other Mom”: “Well, my All Star Plastic Bat Baseball Playing Little Twit just doesn’t like to play the way your boys play, so we decided maybe it was best that he didn’t play at all.”

Me: “OOHHHH!! You mean because my boys don’t like to tattle and act like little babies and run around with flowers in their hair, prancing through meadows of daisies, singing songs whilst knitting?” [I didn’t really say that, but dangit, I wanted to.]

Instead, I whipped out MY SECRET WEAPON.

Me: “Yeah, you’re right. My kids should probably not play with your All Star Plastic Bat Baseball Playing Little Twit because he taught them how to pee on the side of the house. And for that, I’m eternally UN-grateful.” I grab my kids and we head inside.

You see, I caught the All Star Plastic Bat Baseball Playing Little Twit taking a whiz on the side of his house, cranking his neck around the corner, to make sure Other Mom wasn’t watching. When he turned around, as he zips his fly, he saw me standing there. I waved. He knew.

Needless to say, I’m fairly certain he was in trouble for the rest of the evening, as I saw Other Mom lead him into the house by his ear.