With the kids back to school, the craziness at our house is in full gear. The six year old is in an after school program at his elementary school and attends Cub Scouts with my husband who is the den leader for that age group. I think. I’m not sure if he’s called “Den Leader” or not. But he’s the guy in charge of the six-year-olds.
And then there’s the four-year-old. We gave her a choice of ballet or soccer. She chose soccer. Last week was her very first practice. My husband and I made a deal that on her practice nights, my husband would take on the six year old as well as the one year old. That was the plan. That’s not what happened. He apparently forgot that he was supposed to go to an adult-only Scout council meeting where they gather around a table and drink the blood of all the kids who misbehaved at the previous den meeting.
We decided that I would take the one year old with to the four year old’s practice and my husband would take the six year old with him for part of the council meeting. After soccer practice, I’d swing by and pick my son up, bringing all three kids home.
Soccer practice was hectic. We were inside a large gym where all kids between the ages of 3 and 5 were running around all over the place. Parents were encouraged to participate during the practices. That was a super fun time for me. It’s not that I have a problem helping the coaches out it’s just that I found myself wearing a large mom-purse on one shoulder, the one-year-old on the other shoulder and chasing a soccer ball across a gym while wearing boots with high heels. It had been a few years since I wore anything with heels and I forgot how uncomfortable those boots are. I’m still feeling the pain almost one week later.
Schedules were passed out for the games which are every Saturday. I didn’t see the four-year-old’s team listed for the very first Saturday so I thought maybe her team didn’t play.
Then, on Saturday morning, I received an email the coach sent to all of the parents, the night before, reminding them that the first game was on Saturday at 9:00 a.m.
I looked at my watch and realized we had less than an hour to get the kids ready for the four-year-olds first game. Naturally, I was a little stressed.
We raced the kids out to the car
But when we got there, the parking lot was empty.
Basketball? I was confused.
(Please ignore the random punctuation mark. My phone has a sick obsession with periods.)
Soccer? Of course I meant soccer. Why would I be talking to him about basketball? I went back through the messages on my cell phone and sure enough, I goofed.
In our case, we took the kids out for breakfast.