Q has had a basketball practice since the last update. I attended, and spent most of it correcting papers. But it's a lot like soccer practice used to be - the first part was all drills, and allowed for a lot of correcting, but the last few minutes were the "game", which was a lot more fun to watch. Most of the cast of characters were the same - Henry, Sam D, Colton, Bennet, Eli, Cole... The usuals. When they broke them up for the game, one team had pinnies on and the other just had its shirts. And exactly as in soccer, Q could not stop fidgeting with his pinny. The other kids forgot they had them on, but Q's was in constant need of adjustment. It really distracted him from the whole athletic enterprise unfolding around him.
Which was too bad, because he was the point guard. They were trying to teach the kids to play positions, and assigned someone on each team to be the point guard and to be the guy who brings the ball up and distributes it. At first, I thought it might be pretty random, and not a reflection on Q's athletic ability. (To my untrained eye, he seems to be one of the better kids, but certainly not the best. Just pretty good.) But then I noticed that the opposing point guard was Sam D - you know, the kid who's seven and does flips when he runs and juggles a soccer ball twenty times in a row. So maybe they did put the likeliest candidates in those spots. And you know what? He responded like a little pro, and started doing some pretty nifty passes - lobbing it over the crowd to a wide-open man when the defenders all collapsed on him, weaving around to shake things up and get different looks when the outlook got stale...He's enjoying the heck out of it. As am I. And I only called out one bit of advice to him. ("Run!", I believe it was. And, coincidentally, that's when he started shifting around more to create passing lanes for himself. Man, I was a pillar of stoicism compared to a couple of the dads I could name...) Lately he's decided that when he's older, he's going to be the QB on the football team, and he says he's going to play on the little tikes squad next year. If the veins bulged out of my head watching him play soccer, I'll probably have to be sedated before his first football game. Watch it from a gurney, all strapped in and propped up like Hannibal Lecter.
T, meanwhile, is, it can no longer be denied, a huuuge ham for photographs. They did a session at her day care, like school photos, where they get two poses and you can pay for as many of the prints they send out as you like. It seems an awful waste, as we only paid for two prints, but man oh man, you are going to absolutely flip when you see them. We're going to scan them, you see, and give everybody a free digital copy rather than pay for physical copies, doubtless in violation of some kind of Law. But jeepers, the grin on her face, and the way she absolutely revels in the chance to sit sideways to the camera and toss her head back over her shoulder and beam for the flashbulbs...I'm not sure what this augers for the future, but a little bead of worry is beginning to build up inside me, like a pearl. Or a cyst. I'm just afraid of having a little daughter in ten years. Cold and clammy at the very thought of it. Q's friends lurking around the house more than seems normal, calling and talking to Q for two minutes before having the phone passed over -
BRRRR!! Bbbbblalalala - - Quick! Think about something cute... Ah! Yes! That'll do nicely: The kids had pommegranate (spelling, Ronadh...?) for dessert the other day, and things got a little out of hand:
They got much less out of hand with T, but photographs of her mess, due to the reasons I just went into above, were equally necessary. If you look close at her forehead, you can see one little smear of red:
Still haven't figured out the "Updates and Reminders" thing. How about the Alamo. Let's all remember that. Good times, good times.
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