There's a group of neighborhood kids playing in my backyard, mostly Kindergardeners, but a few first graders too.
I'm in the kitchen getting dinner ready with one eye out the window, and what do I hear?
"It's my turn to be the dog poop!" Twin B. shouts.
"No, you're the plunger this time," the neighbor girl corrects him.
I do not want to know what game they're playing out there.