It's good to try new things

In our house, Annie is the theater kid; Charlie is the sports kid; and Robbie is the quirky kid. 

I know it's probably bad to think of them in such narrow boxes, but that's what their interests and personalities lend themselves to, so that's how it's evolved.

Except that once in a while, someone surprises us. That was exactly the case when Robbie asked a few weeks ago if he could play basketball. This is the kid who has played on two soccer teams, once when he was 5 and once when he was 8. During both seasons, the fastest he ever ran was to the sideline for the post-game snacks. 

Even so, when he asked if he could play basketball, I jumped on it and signed him up for a great learning league at a nearby church.

On Wednesday of this week, I told him that his first practice was today. He said ok, but not with a lot of excitement. Yesterday, I reminded him that basketball practice was this morning. 

"Oh Mom, I changed my mind. I don't want to play basketball."

Too bad. I'd already paid for the (extremely reasonable) league fee. 

This morning as we stepped outside to get in the car for practice, he took a look at the rain and said, "Hmm...I guess basketball is cancelled." Though to his credit, he took it in stride when I assured him that the court is inside and they could play rain or shine. 

Once at the church, things started looking up. He found that a handful of his friends from school were there to play in the league as well. While the kids went through first day evaluation drills so teams could be assigned, I took my place in an adjoining room for the parents meeting. During the meeting, Mike texted to ask how he was doing. He wasn't the only one who was wondering. I was anxious for the meeting to get over so I could peek in and see if Robbie was having a good time. 

Meeting adjourned and I headed for the gym. I was happy to catch a little bit of this action:

Just after I stopped recording, Robbie leaned toward the sideline and yelled over to me "Mom, this is fun!"

I texted the video clip to Mike who texted back, "Wow. He's waaaaaaaaaay better than I thought!"

The next drill kind of put "waaaaaaaaay better" into perspective.

No worries. It's a learning league.

When practice was over and we were headed to the car, my sweaty-headed little quirky kid who isn't my sports kid said, "This was the most fun I've had ever. I've never felt more alive!"

It was a reminder to me that it's good to try new things, to step out of our narrow buckets once in a while. And in that spirit, tomorrow I'm taking Charlie painting.

A grievance against the elves

Elfin Grievance Form -- NP123

Date: December 26, 2011

Grievance filed by: Amy M. (aka The 4th Frog)

Nature of grievance: 

___ Shoddy worksmanship   ___ Poor packaging   ___ Wrong item sent   _X__ Other

Please provide details of the complaint:

Our son Charlie received a basketball shooting game for Christmas. He was thrilled. Unfortunately, the elves in the sporting goods department must have slipped the box into Santa's bag before Santa could notice that they didn't actually assemble the game. Luckily, Charlie was kept plenty busy with his other Christmas gifts that he didn't seem to mind that the gift was still in the box.

The day after Christmas, Charlie opened the box, assuming that he would just need to unfold the game and it would be ready to go. Ha! If only we'd been so lucky. The box was filled with no less than 247 individual pieces that required significant assembly.

There were more than a dozen metal pieces that had to be put together to create the frame. To the elves' credit, these were all clearly marked and actually matched up with the numbers included in the instruction booklet. If only the bolts were as clearly marked. Yes, they were separated and labeled initially, but once the package was opened it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between a #24 bolt and a #25 bolt.

I started the assembly with Charlie helping me. That lasted about 17 minutes. Then it was Annie to the rescue. She and I matched metal poles and nuts and bolts and washers, hoping that the entire contraption would not collapse on top of us. Annie kept saying "Aren't there people who get paid to do this?" She is her GoGo's granddaughter!

Mike called us to lunch and we emerged from the basement, not yet finished, amazed to find that we had been working on this little project for more than 2 hours!

After lunch, we had to tighten up the bolts, install the hoops, hang the backboard, install the scoring system -- and oh, yeah -- find batteries, something else those elves forgot to do. All told (some unscrewing and correcting of erroneous building), it took us about 3-1/2 hours to put Charlie's gift together. I'm thinking the elves could have had it done in 45 minutes or so.

I suppose it was a character building experience. It was some mother-daughter bonding time. In the end, what really matters is that Charlie is having fun with his gift. And so are the rest of us. 

But, I do think that someone might want to have a word with those sporting goods elves.

Nervous chatter

In my recent post about why I love Facebook, I mentioned that it makes watching sports on TV so much more fun. It's been a critical part of my enjoyment of my Butler Bulldogs' dance through the men's NCAA basketball tournament. (Although I will admit not everyone is enjoying it; I've had more than one person tell me all my posts during the game are "blowing up my newsfeed.")

What in the world might someone have to say on Facebook about a college basketball game, you might wonder? Well, this:

Butler fans...time to get unleashed!

3 + 3 = Shelvin, my hero.

C'mon Dawgs! Rebound the ball.

Is it wrong that I'm enjoying watching the replay of that elbow to the nose?

Shake it off, Dawgs! Come back from the break and play your game.

Dear Coach Stevens: Time to reach into your bag of tricks...

3 is such a lovely number.

Rub some dirt on it.

ShelVINNNNNNNN Mack!

How is it half=time already?

We'll sing the Butler war song... (sing it with me...sometime take the next line...)

There's a reason they call them FREE throws, boys....

Time out. C'mon Brad, talk some sense into our boys.

7 is NOT a lovely number.

OK, let's make that the start of our run.

4 fouls on Macklin...let's do something with this.

Something bad is happening in Oz when Matt Howard starts missing free throws.

I don't know who you are #20, but I ♥ you!

Mike Magan is on his feet!

Andrew Smith...puh-leeeeze make these.

Hey -- put that #20 back in!

Nice pits, Billy Donovan.

Let Reggie ref.

YES! Shelvin!

Teamwork makes the dreamwork!

I don't know whether to sweet talk 'em or deliver tough love. So please, sweet honey Matt Howard, make these...or I will hunt you down and kick your patootie.

I'm gonna have to self-medicate to make it through this overtime.

Let's make some magic, Dawgs!

The bucket and the foul!

Tough D....no score...

Could someone please explain to me why Matt Howard is not shooting the dang ball?

GD* referees trying to decide the game. (*gosh darn)

This game is sponsored by the St. Vincent Heart Center and Grey Goose Citrus.

I think I might throw up. I can't watch. But I can't look away.

ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseopleaseohplease....

I need some O2. Stat.

Sir Charles, what do you have to say now?

Wonder if Brad Stevens needs to change his pants before conducting the post-game press conference? I think Mike Magan might.

Now, before you go thinking that I'm a bit nuts, it's not actually like I'm talking to myself (although that does fall under #10 on my reasons to love Facebook). I have friends on FB who are chatting it up too and responding to my posts (and I'm responding to theirs). For instance, someone suggested that the reason Matt Howard was not shooting the ball was because he was afraid I would hit him if he missed.

And I'm aware that the team is 99% probably not seeing/hearing my encouragment (though in this world of wireless technology, you never know). But it makes me feel better to put it out there in the Facebook universe. 

The next game is Bulldogs' second Final Four appearance in two years. The game is in Houston, Texas. But you know where I'll be -- in front of my TV and on Facebook.

Life imitates sport

Since he was a very little boy, Charlie has watched sports -- on TV and in person -- and imitated what he sees.

During the 2002 Winter Olympics, we were watching bobsledding. Charlie ran into the toyroom and began dumping toys out of the storage bins. Before I could yell at him, he was back in front of the TV with an empty bin in hand. He put the bin on the floor, began pushing it and running after it, then tried to jump into the empty bin as if it were a bobsled.

When we had people over to play cornhole, Charlie got right up close and very intently watched as people tossed corn-filled bean bags across the yard, then lined up to work on the techniques he had observed.

But the sport that he watches and emulates most is college basketball. That was clear this afternoon at his basketball game.

He plays in a league at a local Christian church. It's not ultra-competitive, but Charlie likes it because they have uniforms and they play actual games -- two things the training league he played in last year didn't have. We like it because they only have one practice a week and the league fee is ridiculously reasonable.

Because Annie didn't have a cheerleading or volleyball commitment today, both Mike and I were free to go to Charlie's game. He had a great game, scoring 8 of the team's 22 points and making some nice passes (which always pleases me, as I've been drilling "share, Charlie" since he was a toddler).

But almost more fun than watching him score and give the ball up to teammates, was watching Charlie in his "college point guard" mode.

He called the plays and then before making his move, gave a little head fake. Later, as he was bringing the ball up the court, he would look up at the electronic scoreboard as if clock management was at play.

When his team got possession of the ball with about 14 seconds left in the game, they were up by 4 points. Charlie brought the ball across the half court line, gave a quick glance to the game clock and then started dribbling the ball back and forth from the top of the key to the sideline.

Mike and I started laughing when we realized that he was holding out for the last second shot. How old is this kid?! With about 1.5 seconds left, he hoisted a shot up toward the basket. It missed, ended up in the hands of one of his teammates and the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game.

I don't know if the other parents thought Charlie's antics were amusing or annoying. But I don't really care. They were quintessential Charlie.

And who knows? Maybe some day, some little boy or girl will be imitating him.

While visions of basketball danced in their heads...

After I put the boys to bed tonight, I walked back down the hallway to grab some laundry. As I reached for the reds, Charlie called out to me:

"Mom?"

"What Charlie?"

"When A.J. Graves made that deep shot from the nozone against the Flames, were the Bulldogs down by 2 or 1?"

"Um, I think you're gonna have to discuss that with your Dad."

Now I know what little boys always have on their minds before they become big boys with something else always on their minds.