I mowed my lawn for the first time in 2008 today. That may seem late to people who live in their fancy schmancy temperate climates, where you have things like "spring" and "warmth." Considering the last of the snow melted a mere five weeks ago and it was 45 degrees without the windchill, the fact that I even had grass to mow was a triumph of the human spirit and photosynthesis.
One of the joys of being both a homeowner and now a parent-to-be is that I can officially play the "it's mine" game when neighborhood kids leave stuff on my property. Even though I have found balls and other toys in the backyard before, I've never kept anything. As I pushed the mower along the back yard today, I spied something shiny in the shaggy grass. Reaching down, I retrieved a pair of handcuffs. They were not real ones, as they had a release lever on each cuff. But they were metal, quite sturdy, and girthy enough for an adult wrist.
What does it say about our culture that it's not enough for kids to just play doctor anymore? For all I know, my backyard turned into Fisher Price's My First Dungeon, with kids paying up to $300/hr in Monopoly money for some twisted playtime. And if Dateline NBC shows up on my property, do you think they're going to believe that these handcuffs were brought by children?
So my first official entry into the "it's mine" game is a pair of handcuffs. Which I only took for their moral protection. Because handcuffs should only be used in a loving, monogamous marriage.