You know that idyllic neighborhood where nothing ever happens in The Truman Show?
We totally live there. Bubble and all.
It wasn't an intentional thing to end up in a suburban neighborhood plopped in the middle of nowhere, but it happened. And it's pretty damn awesome ... most of the time.
Alexis can ride her bike all over the place and there is truly no reason to worry. In fact, I can send her outside and not even watch her, although I do have a habit of checking on her every thirteen seconds. I wouldn't if she wasn't constantly being attacked by the ground, but there you go. She is, so I check to make sure she hasn't gotten a concussion after thinking about walking across the grass.
People don't speed. Neighbors talk to one another. Yards are neat and maintained. Nothing ever happens.
In fact, in this neighborhood, we tend to measure hooliganism by acts like this one. That particular kid has held the crown for Biggest Punk in our neighborhood for a while, which is saying something. It's all sorts of delightfully boring (and about to get more boring -- that kid's house is for sale, to which Alexis said, "Good riddance." She's not very good at that forgiveness thing.).
But then somebody had to go and steal the crown from the Monster Destroyer. Somebody decided it would be a fun idea to walk through the entire neighborhood one night and see what he could find in cars.
It turns out that when you are living an episode of The Truman Show, you don't necessarily do a real consistent job of locking your car doors. Before you go all judgey judgey, though, keep in mind that until we figure out how to turn stale french fries and Goldfish crumbs into power source, there's nothing in my car. And I do mean NOTHING. Alexis sometimes leaves her random crap in there, but there aren't many people who are interested in a glitter-covered miniature unicorn, a pink and white sequin hat, and a glittery skull temporary tattoo.
Oh, and I am SO not alone in my "don't consistently lock the doors" thing. Dozens and dozens of cars were hit. Gloveboxes were raided, center consoles were emptied, and loose change was grabbed.
He (and I do know it was a "he" because one neighbor saw him, but wasn't able to catch him) managed to steal a whopping $3 in change out of my car. I bet those pennies are getting him far in life ... or not.
All of that is annoying and has me all sorts of cranky that I still can't park in the garage, but then there is the upside. There definitely is an upside.
The whole incident obviously got the neighborhood kids talking. The dozens of them that go to school together have compared notes, compiled the evidence, and together they have Scooby Doo Ganged their way into figuring out which Big Kid in the neighborhood is the guilty party. It's total and complete hilarity listening to them explain how they know who it was and what they're going to do about it.
In the meantime, we live in an episode of The Truman Show. I'll be shocked if the police haven't figured out who did it by the end of the week.
And if the kids turn out to be right? We'll be talking about other-level hilarity then.