I don’t let my children use this word…ever. But tonight the word is appropriate.
I feel guilty that my son is in school all day. Once he is home, I swing in to “insane homework person who needs to get dinner cooked right this minute.” I go back and forth as to whether I should make up homework for him or let him play—his sisters have homework, and music practice, and activities. Lately he plays. But here is the problem…he only plays indoors. We have no close by next door neighbors, so he usually plays inside. I tell him to go outside and he lasts 5 minutes. I guess he is a little bored outside.
So, tonight I got all 3 kids outside. Their dad had a coaching meeting for volleyball. There is no school tomorrow, so we were in no rush to get homework done. My daughters passed a volleyball back and forth. My son and I played soccer, football, and basketball. Seriously could I be any less coordinated? I felt my ankle go wobbly during soccer. I kept hitting the backboard in basketball. Let’s not even talk about football.
I don’t recall playing on any sports team as a child. In my 20s, I entered a racquetball tournament and advanced to the finals…because my opponents dropped out or broke something. I, of course, did not win the tournament.
It is to be hoped that the kids get their sports genes from dad.