You Know You Live Next Door to Kids When . . .

I only have two kiddos, right? And one of them can just barely roll over, so I’m a pretty benign baby-household neighbor. And they’re cute, right? Sorta feral looking, but cute. Still, I’m guilty of several of the following indicators that my neighbors live next door to someone with children:

1) You think a feral cat is being attacked by coyotes

but it’s the baby protesting (insert any plethora of things here).

2) You feel like you live near a nudist colony

but really it’s just that the kids are constantly protesting clothing during the summer, or are mid-clothing change, or are potty training, or are getting their daily vitamin D dosage. SuperBoy was streaking up & down the driveway tonight after running through the sprinkler with his Dada. The neighbors were totally looking (aghast?).

3) You believe there’s a perpetual garage sale of plastic toys transpiring

but really it’s just all the stuff that your neighbors just acquired at a garage sale that is now the eye sore of the neighborhood.

4) You hear the same screaming toddler perform the same screams every night

no, he’s not auditioning for the local opera company, he’s expressing his feelings about coming indoors and being separated from his precious baseball paraphernalia.

5) Anytime you need to borrow whole yogurt or milk, prefold diapers, or matchbox cars, you know to come to my house

because we should own stock in Stonyfield Yogurt (despite my attempts at making my own {Yogurt Challenge}) and Horizon Organic Whole Milk, we are swimming in diapers, thanks to the awesome Do Good Diaper service, and we are constantly tripping over SuperBoy’s plethora of tiny metal cars.