The Tale of a Tomato-Licker

I just noticed the "for rent" sign in our neighbors' yard is down and we have new tenants again. I figured it was high time to share the story that captivated me for the greater part of the summer and fall.

This summer a young boy began knocking on my door asking to play with my children. Since I am a mean mom, my kids never play with other children that I do not know. And I did not know this boy. Never had seen him before and had no idea where he came from or where he lived.

After several rejections from me, this boy knocked on my door again with his mother present. Whew, at least now I knew he had a family. However, my fears were not alleviated. His mother was significantly older (not that there's anything wrong with that) and had really, really bad teeth. My first thought was "meth mouth," but then I tried to be charitable and thought "no dental insurance." She explained that said boy was 6 and wanted to play with my boys because he was tired of playing with the neighbor girls. I heard, "I work all day, so if you let him, my son will be over at your house every hour of every day." I think I said something about that day being no good, but maybe sometime.

Sometime arrived shortly thereafter. After returning from a Costco run, said boy "Chris" appeared while we were unloading. Dan had promised the older boys they could swim in their kiddie pool, so he agreed to supervise Chris and the boys (another of my mean qualities--I didn't want to let this kid I barely knew play with my kids unless I could watch them the entire time, which I rarely do with my own kids, so why would I ever want the extra work?). He seemed okay, a little aggressive, but nothing to blog about.

On a significant day in this story, a little while after the swimming and after several more rejections "to play" by me, I relented and allowed Chris to play with the boys in the house. After twenty minutes, he told me he'd better tell his sister where he was. What?! Oh yeah, and my kid-friendly labradors growled at him (I'm a firm believer that animals can read people, if you know what I mean). So I told him we needed to run errands anyway, so we'd just play another day. Meaning, like maybe never.

He leaves. I run to the backyard to put the dogs in the kennel, and run back inside to find: Chris and a girl he introduces as his sister standing in my living room. He says he wanted to show her our house. I felt like they were casing the joint. Again, I tell him we have errands to run and it's time to go home now. They leave. I berate my children for opening the door while I'm not there.

I then walk into my bedroom to yell out the window at the dogs to stop barking (the kennel is new, and they aren't used to it, I think). I see Chris climbing over my fence with help from what is presumably the older sister. Which is why my dogs are going crazy. So I yell at Chris to get off my fence, to stop trespassing, yada yada yada. Chris defends himself by saying he was just showing his sister our pool. That helps a lot. It's only a kiddie pool, so it isn't much of an attractive nuisance, but it wasn't even out! I don't need strange kids climbing in my backyard and provoking my dogs into biting them. Oh, the liability of it all! Again, I tell him to get off the fence and go home.

I am then loading my children into their three carseats in the Yukon, which is in the driveway. I turn around, and Chris is inside my car. Again, I tell him to go home. As I'm driving away, convinced he is going to break into the house and steal who knows what so his parents can sell it to make meth, I see him walking along the sidewalk back to our driveway. I whip around and drive back to yell at him some more. He isn't there. I suppose the Flowmaster gave me away.

So the summer moves along: Chris asking to play; me inventing excuses. My Jacob asking Chris: "So do your parents just not care what you do?" My Gabe saying: "We have a family, Chris, that's what we do." How do these kids get this? I'm careful not to talk to much about him in their presence.

Gabe's first week of kindergarten and first week riding the school bus home with (gasp!) older kids, up to fifth graders. I meet him at the bus stop because it is on the street behind me and because I don't want someone with an old van to steal him on the way home. One day that first week, Gabe says "Chris hurt me on the bus." The best I can make of the situation is that Chris put his arm around Gabe in a way that hurt him. So, Gabe gets the "thanks for telling me about this because no one should ever hurt you" speech and we agree that Gabe will not sit near Chris. My mama bear hairs are starting to quiver.

We still just say no to playing with Chris. Then one afternoon Dan and I notice Chris standing in our driveway very close to the garage door. The blinds are tilted in such a way that we could look down at him, but he couldn't see us. So we watched to see what he would do. (Because in the course of telling this story over the summer, we learn that Dan's mom saw him throwing rocks in the street, and we put two and two together about how my parent's windshield got broken when they were over visiting.) And this is where the title comes in: Chris is licking the green tomatoes on the bush in our planter. Dan goes outside, yells at Chris to put the tomatoes down and go home. He also tells him very firmly to stay out of our yard, etc., etc. Chris leaves, looking a little abashed, but mostly just blank.

The very next day while I'm on the phone telling my friend about his tomato-licking and wondering if I should call social services (I'd just read The Glass Castle and was afraid he wasn't getting any food), I looked out the window and guess what I saw? Chris with one of our green tomatoes in his mouth!

I ran outside and asked him what he was doing. "Nothing" he says with a blank face. I say, "Chris, you are eating our tomatoes."
"No I wasn't," he replies.
"Chris, I saw you with the tomato in your mouth." I say, firmly.
"I wasn't eating it."
"But there are toothmarks on it Chris."
Nothing.
"Why are you eating the tomatoes Chris?"
Nothing.
"My husband told you not to eat the tomatoes yesterday."
Nothing.
"Chris, did you forget?"
Nothing.
"Chris, are you hungry?"
"Ummm, yeah."
"Chris, don't eat our tomatoes anymore. Don't come over here anymore unless you are invited."

Chris leaves. I actually looked up the number for Child Protective Services and debated calling them. The next day, I noticed Chris carrying the bag of food that the overambitious PTA parent organized to go home with needy kids over the weekend (so he should at least have that to eat, along with the free breakfast and lunch at school). More about this in a later post. Maybe everybody already knows about his situation, I muse.

The following Monday when Gabe gets off the bus, he tells me that Chris hurt him. I say to Gabe, "We talked about not sitting by him." Gabe says, "Mom, I didn't, I was just sitting there and Chris sat by me and said to stop looking at him and pushed my face into the window so I couldn't move my head. He hurt my brain." This is his second week of kindergarten. Mama bear is growling now.

That night, after the kids were in bed, I rooted around in the garage until I found the spray bottle of "The Bitter End." It's an herbal spray to be used on fences or bushes that you don't want the dogs to chew on. It tastes terrible. I know this because I sprayed it all over the boys' sandboat, washed my hands several times, and then licked my fingers accidentally. It is awful something fierce. And I covered the entire tomato bush with the entire bottle of the bitter end. Don't nobody mess with my boy.

(I also called the bus barn and informed the bus driver of the situation; Gabe has had no other such incidents.)

Sadly, I never learned if Chris licked the bitter tomatoes. I can only hope that he did. He eventually got the hint and stopped coming over and asking to play. As an interesting side note, I also witnessed him and both his sisters licking our plastic candy cane Christmas decorations. Now he and his family have moved on to a new rental in a new neighborhood with new plants. Can't say as he will be missed.