Tomfoolery

SO...the big news around our house today is the new bike in the backyard. Well, it's not new, it's new-ish, but more to the point: It's Not Ours!

Seems that we had a visitor in the night (stinky punk thief!!) who came into our yard, took my husbands 2nd hand mountain bike he got from the neighbor, and left a newer-ish, nicer-ish, girls' mountain bike in its place.

What the...?

And I don't go for this whole "polite thief" thing, because hello! NOT his backyard, NOT okay to trespass. It had to have happened in the wee hours of the morning because I was up very late. Or very early, depending on how you look at it. Plus I was out of bed this morning by 6:15. My oldest son was also up until nearly 2am prepping his cue cards for his Senior Speech....which he gave today and totally rocked! His topic was Creationism VS Evolution - and he totally won the popular vote with a Christian view in a public high school. Super awesomeness, yes?

Ahem. Sorry, proud Mama moment.

Anyways....

When I checked the door as I always do before bed, the red bike was there.

Hubbo noticed the switcheroo this morning when he went to open the sliding glass door to let Her Highness Uma the calico cat in before she etched the glass to smithereens. Right there, in the exact spot as his red bike had been in was (ABRACADABRA!) a blue-ish silver bike.

We don't normally lock our gate because the kids go in & out with scooters & bikes all the time and we've never had a problem before. We have close neighbors and it's just not been a concern.

Well it SURE IS NOW!

I don't like the fact that someone was up to some no-good-tomfoolery in my backyard under my kids window. It does make me feel better that our bedrooms are upstairs tho.

For a minute we thought maybe this was one of the boys' friends bikes, or that possibly one of them had taken it upon themselves to allow a friend to borrow the bike - even though that didn't really make any sense and surely they would have mentioned it prior to my cardiac arrest. Or at least sometime during it. Then again, they are teenage boys, and often prone to bouts of Dain Bramage.

But no such scenario worked out. So we called the police and they sent the cutest little cadet-cop-in-training over to take the report. I wanted to pinch him to see if he was real! (I won't tell you where. What? You would have wanted to too.) As is turns out, the mystery bike has not been reported stolen - well at least not yet anyways - and because of that, the coppers won't take it off our hands. We get to be the keepers of stolen goods. Hot wheels. Hehehe, get it? I crack me up.

And now? Now the hubbo is the official owner of record for this bike that is not ours. Should he ride it down the street (which he so will not do ever) and someone tries to lay claim, the police say they would have to provide proof of ownership. Like documentation or a picture of them, on said bike, riding around, in happier times.

Is that not weird?

We both agree that if someone decides to come forward and say its theirs then we will rely on gut instinct to decipher the truth. Or perhaps I will need Tom Hanks phone number again. We'll see.

Right now it feels creepy. We paddle-locked the fence so no more easy access, but I'm not satisfied. I want some cowbells. A whole string of them. And a sign. One that says Trespassers Will Get The Beatdown From One Mean Mama Who Will Tie You Up With Thick & Quick Yarn And Poke You Hard With A Size Q Crochet Hook. And don't think I won't do it either!