MARK MY WORD: MAN'S HOME ISN'T HIS CASTLE, BUT CHILD'S PLAY AREA

One of the major rules of parenting is that it's OK to let them visit, but it's best if they don't take up residence.

They say a man's home is his castle. But clearly they're not talking about our house or those of other parents we know.

Our homes and yards are more like recreation centers than fortresses. There is no right to privacy. That only comes after your kids are grown.

The bend on our short street has three houses full of kids. Becca and Bailey and the other children move back and forth from house to house like a bunch of gypsies.

They play until the sun goes down and sometimes even later, their laughter and enthusiasm providing a symphony of fun for parents.

Their play time brings us out of our houses. It makes us talk to our neighbors instead of just waving to them like we do the mailman.

Halloween is a great time of year, particularly when you have neighbors that decorate their front yard with everything from a green-eyed witch to a giant spider web outlined in orange lights.

Bailey made me hold her by the hand when the witch first appeared on their front lawn. After all, a witch with glowing green eyes can be scary at night, particularly for a 3-year-old.

Of course, the decorations have been up for so long that we have become accustomed to the predominantly orange glow that now illuminates our corner of the world at night.

In some ways, it's kind of reassuring, like a hayride beneath the stars.

At any rate, our concrete street often resembles a pedestrian plaza or perhaps a city park, except there are no benches or water fountains. It's home to our bike-riding children and their like-minded friends.

We often end up in the street, talking to our neighbors and watching our children hard at play. Bailey continues to believe that the best play attire is a swimming suit, even on cool, fall days.

Fortunately, there's little traffic on our street to disrupt our neighborly visits.

Seven-year-old Becca has a girl friend whose backyard borders our backyard. She regularly comes to play, joining in with our merry band of children.

Lately, she has been brining over her singing flowerpot with the dancing flowers. I must confess it does have a snappy tune.

Of course, I do my best to make sure the pot only stays for a few hours. You can only enjoy dancing flowers for a short time. After that, you welcome silent Barbies.

When we get home from work, we regularly leave our front doors and garage doors open, inviting in the youthful gang.

There's no privacy here. Your children see to that. They are social butterflies, moving easily from house to house and yard to yard.

You need electronic shackles to keep track of your kids at times. At least, you don't have to go far to find them in your neighborhood.

You also have to check and see if your neighbors' children have left the house before you lock up.

The other night I locked up before I realized that one of Becca's friends was still in the house.

Naturally, I unlocked the door and let her friend go home.

One of the major rules of parenting is that it's OK to let them visit, but it's best if they don't take up permanent residence.

Our homes aren't Holiday Inns. They're regular entertainment centers, wrapped up endless imagination.

And like all good neighbors, we'll keep the lights on, at least until everyone has gone home.

Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.