I'm not in Kansas anymore

As I am typing, ten of my 13-year-old daughter's friends are at my house. One tiny girl just shouted loudly through the living room "who stole my deodorant!"

I personally just came in the house from explaining to the neighbors down the street that it was a wildly careening skateboarder who hit their car, tripping the car alarm, causing them to come out of their house in their pajamas. They are both police officers.

These kids are funny and full of energy -- and I see my future for the next few years. They ate three large pizzas, watched Dodge Ball with pillows and cups left all over the living room as they raced outside to 1) roll down the street as though it was a grassy hill 2) take turns riding skateboards and scooters full bore down the street (thus one of them running into the neighbor's car) prompting me to hold the phone in my hand with 911 on speed dial 3) climb the tree in the front yard; one of the boys falling out of the tree, landing on the blossoming bush below and rolling out onto the street.

They have not stopped laughing for more than two seconds . . . someone just shouted "slow down Lassy!" More laughing, more antics . . . one of them, who was climbing the side of the house, just popped his head around the corner to say hello. . . more laughing, more antics. . . someone just ran through the house with a big smirk on her face. . . more laughing, more antics. I see a view of many Friday nights ahead.