Which is crazy, because I remember having all sorts of exciting adventures with my friends sans parental supervision. One time a new kid moved into town and we finally had enough players to field a whole baseball team but then we accidentally hit a Babe Ruth autographed ball into blind James Earl Jones’ yard where he kept this beast of a dog — that was dangerous but everything turned out fine in the end. And there was another time where some of us went searching for One Eyed Willy’s gold in this elaborate underground catacombs while being chased by Italian mobsters but found enough jewels to save our house from getting sold and turned into a golf course by the Romneys. And then there was that dead body we saw near the train tracks — that shit was deep. Can’t believe kids today aren’t allowed to share these experiences. That’s what being a kid is all about!
It’s a cul-de-sac, people.