If you will indulge me a story and a reminiscence?

This afternoon, my wife took the kids to visit their cousins in Salt Lake. Naturally, I stayed home to prepare for school tomorrow. About two hours after my wife left, I heard activity in my driveway. Two boys, not more than 8 years old, were playing in my yard!

Specifically, they were playing in the puddle in my driveway. My driveway is not paved, and there is a pretty good-sized rut on the west half that collects rain and melted snow. One of these days I'll get around to filling it (or be wealthy enough to just put down some concrete), but at the moment it is what might be termed an "attractive nuisance." Which is to say, children love to play in the mud, and mine are no exception.

At any rate, one of these boys had a bicycle; the other had a red wagon. They were taking turns riding the bike through the puddle as fast as they could, riding all the way up into my carport (where the wagon had been parked). One of the boys (we'll call him Instigator) saw me peering through the window and, as only a child can, pretended he had not seen me, casually walking his bike from my carport to the sidewalk. He yelled to his friend (we'll call him Sidekick) to "Get my rope and bring your wagon!" Sidekick obeyed.

Now, I do not have fancy windows. In truth, my windows stop the wind alone, and that only just. They are no barrier to sound. Standing where I could no longer be seen, I listened to the boys converse, which is to say, I listened to Instigator's monologue.

"I don't care if he gets mad. It's just a mud puddle. Just tie the wagon to the back of the bike. It's a free country. If he comes out I'll tell him it's just a mud puddle."

Sidekick proceeded to tie the wagon to the back of the bike; clearly the goal was to ride through the mud puddle with wagon in tow. Instigator watched, supervisory malice gleaming in his eyes. Twice he barked out corrective guidance for his knot-tying lackey.

Soon Sidekick walked the bike and wagon across the street, presumably in an effort to build speed before hitting the puddle in my driveway. At this point I'm having visions of this poor kid hitting the dip, flying from his bicycle, and breaking his arm on my property. I try not to get too worked up about liability, but I did wonder if I should have chased them off as soon as I discovered their trespass.

Fortunately, Sidekick splashed through the puddle, dragged the wagon through it, and, though slightly muddied, emerged bodily intact. He came to a stop not three feet from my kitchen door. I took this opportunity to open the door and speak to the boy.

No sooner had I turned the doorknob than Instigator, at this point standing halfway between the sidewalk and my carport, turned and ran across the street to hide. He didn't even look back. Sidekick looked up at me, abandoned and confused.

"Hey," I said gently, only too aware that in Sidekick's eyes, I was an old man, come to chase him from my lawn and end his fun. "You guys probably shouldn't be playing in my driveway."

Sidekick nodded.

"Thanks," I said, smiling, and stepped back inside. As the door closed behind me, I heard Sidekick stammer belatedly, "It's just a..."

Instigator came out from wherever he was hiding, though he waited for Sidekick to join him across the street.

I've been in Sidekick's shoes. As a boy of 6, I spent most of my leisure time with two other boys who were constantly setting me up for trouble. Sometimes it was little things; they would "give" me a particularly attractive toy, urge me to put it in my pocket, then tell me to go home... only to rush out and warn the lady of the house that I was stealing things. The worst was when they destroyed a significant number of goose eggs, stealing them from a neighbor's yard and dashing them against the cinder block wall that served as our neighborhood's boundary. They lured me out into the empty dirt lot where their vandalism was already underway and proceeded to target me instead of the wall. I managed to escape with only one shoe covered in egg.

Naturally, the owners of the eggs found the footprints of three boys, and so three families had to pay for the damage. I still recall that, when confronted by my parents, I admitted to smashing one egg--though in truth I had smashed none, and indeed was too scared of the geese to so much as attempt an egg-napping. I expected that the truth would not be believed; after all, I had egg on my shoe, and I didn't want to make the situation worse by appearing to lie. My mother made a chore chart for me to work off the expense. I recall that she let me off the hook early; I imagine, looking back, that she suspected the truth, though I had not spoken it.

Witnessing Instigator's cowardice today reminded me of the credulity of some children, and the malice of others. In truth I did not really want to chase these boys away--their fun was harmless enough--but as a semi-responsible adult I am only too aware of the duty of care I owe to trespassers I discover on my property. Even so, their brief presence reminded me of my so-called friends twenty years ago, which in turn made me think about the leaders of countries around the world. How many of our leaders are like Instigator, swift to speak bold words, to urge others to bravery, and to abandon their friends at the first sign of trouble? How many of us, ever credulous Sidekicks, bear admonitions intended for our seeming superiors?