Go play outside, son

One of the major reasons we decided to buy a house was because we wanted to give our son some room to run. We were living in a townhouse and the only patch of grass was about as big as a car, and the neighbor's dog always crapped in it. They only picked it up if we all happened to be outside while the dog was actually going. Otherwise, they would dash back in their house and hide, perhaps hoping that the dog poop fairy would come and clean it up for them. Eventually my husband started picking it up and re-homing it on their porch. Another neighbor bought a box of coctail umbrellas and festively placed one in each lawn crap.

Of all the homes we looked at, this one has the most land. Awesome, you say. Not so, I correct you.

The entire septic system had to be replaced. It was SUPPOSED to be done before we moved in. Naturally, they started right AFTER we moved in, around Christmas. Nothing says "welcome to your new home" more than the melodious sounds of a backhoe grinding up your front yard every day for weeks. I wanted to jump out of a window. In another lucky break for people who hate us, the ground froze, so they had to halt production until APRIL. Leaving us with a front yard that is the exact opposite of the grassy playland we had envisioned for our son:

Also, it reeks of sewer gas.

What, you are wondering about the back yard? That is where they dumped the dirt from the front yard. Great for little children. Mud as far as the eye can see, and hundreds of jagged rocks just holding their breath and waiting for a tender child to trip and land on them:

I still let him play back there.