Boy, there's a little boy who lives next door to me, and recently he's been really aggressive. It's sad, and it's one of the reasons we're moving. There's three generations of assholes who live there. This is the same house where Billie the Angry Border Collie lives, along with two other dogs (one of which we've never seen but hear barking all the time) and two other cats live in disharmony together. The cats are a whole other funny story I'll get to later, I've been working on not digressing as much. In any event, this little boy is the sole male (with the exception of his not involved grandfather) in a house full of bitchy women, aged from 9 to probably somewhere in the mid 50’s. I hear his mother, his sister and grandmother yell at him all the time. They make him take groceries into the house after they’ve shopped (I never see them help him) and will yell and berate him to do it quickly. Sometimes on hot days when we all have our windows open, I can hear women’s voices yelling at him, and him yelling and screaming back. I hope he’s not being physically abused. We’ve called protective services on them a few times, when their family squabble left their house and took itself outside, and played itself out in front of our home. I haven’t seen any indication of change if protective service has intervened.
The little boy seems lonely, and has been trying to befriend some of the neighborhood kids. There are a couple of boys his age two houses down from me, that he plays with, but those boys are smart and are scammers, and are teaching him all kinds of new things. One thing that’s been happening is they boy next door will approach me in my driveway when I’m getting home from work and ask me if I want to buy a pen or some junk mail addressed to his parents for a dollar and things like that. I politely decline and he takes off in a hurry.
The new aggressive behavior that has been causing me some concern is that he has been playing basketball in the street with bigger kids (these kids must be at minimum 13 and up). When I am driving down the street to go home, the 5 year old will throw himself on the street, as if he fell but it seems more like he’s throwing himself in front of my car. I’ll stop, at a distance, of course, and he’ll get up and put his hand up like he’s traffic control and ordering me to stop. I see a future for this kid as a Flagger on a rural highway that is being repaved or something similar. Well, after he’s successfully gotten himself off of the road and to the side, I proceed slowly, smiling, I try hard to be friendly to this kid because I feel bad for him, and I have been watching his development take a dark turn at an early age. At this point of our interaction, he picks up the basketball and acts as if he’s throwing it at my car, but it just barely clears the top of my car. He’ll look into my eyes when he does it, and has a really piercing, angry look that burns a hole into my soul.
He has done this a few days in a row, and yesterday I stopped and backed up, and rolled down the window and gave him a few words of advice. I told him to be careful, because he could hurt someone seriously, or hurt himself seriously, especially with the way most of the punks in my neighborhood speed down the road. I also told the little boy that I knew he lived next to me and I didn’t want to have to talk to his mother or grandmother about this. He just looked at me, and didn’t break my gaze and didn’t say anything. I pulled away, and into my driveway.
I talked with Ric about this whole situation, and I expressed I didn’t want to bring his family into what he was doing because they would just yell at him, which we believe is the source of his aggressive behavior. Ric suggested when I see the kid (without the basketball or other such projectiles) to smile, and strike up conversation with him. I’m going to try to do that, but usually I don’t even like to get involved. That’s why I haven’t talked to him more before he started trying to smash out my car windows while I was driving.
There was another angry little boy named Dakota who lived on the other side of us (but his family has since been evicted for manufacturing and using meth). I befriended him, feeling really bad for him, and it didn’t make a difference. He would smash windows (not mine, thankfully) and I believe he broke one of my cats’ tail. His dad was a psycho that I could write about for pages, and his mother looks like Rod Stewart looks now, except she is my age. Dakota has issues, when his mother would lay out in her backyard to sun tan, he would run up to her and punch her in the face, or hit her with objects (there was a lot of trash and scrap metals in the backyard). There was a lot of physical abuse going on over there, and the cops were there more times than I can count.