Leave it all on the field.
(Just remember to save some of it until the game actually starts!)
Zander’s very first flag football game was today. Whatever he lacks in intensity for the game he more than makes up for in his intensity for having fun. And isn’t that what games are really all about anyway?
Aw…that’s sweet…..
Not so fast, I say. Just seconds prior to snapping this shot I had to stop them from literally attempting to shove each other off of the enormous rock on which they are perched.
I don’t like this.
What don’t you like, Zella?
My hair. I don’t like it like this.
Why?
It makes me look like a girl!
Zella, you are a girl.
I DON’T LIKE IT!
(That’s what thirty pounds of fury looks like, people. Be afraid. Be very afraid.)
She started asking me last year. Not persistently, but often. Never demanding. It was actually more a feeble plead, a half-hearted request completely lacking in confidence.
“You’re not ready” was typically all it took to quell her desires. I wasn’t about to tell her that it was me who was not ready. These things, simple as they may appear on the surface, cut deep as they loose whatever fibers of relevance I imagine binding us together. ”Maybe next summer.”
It is not yet summer — hell, spring has been barely discernible through all of the lingering cold and threatening snow. I’m still running the freaking heater!! Yet it only took one warm day, one afternoon of sunshine and temperatures mild enough to force us out of doors to rekindle the pleas. And it would appear the long winter’s nap had given them bite. Half-hearted and lacking confidence were nowhere to be found. These were no longer meek requests but bold demands, asked in a tone that simply said, “I will not be denied.”
“I want my training wheels off!”
“Zella, are you sure? Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Yes!”
I stared at her 30 pounds of staid determination looking for weakness.
She never blinked. (Not surprising, for I must admit that she is the family champion at staring contests.)
After what seemed an eternity she finally spoke. ”And Zander, too.”
The kid’s got moxie.
“Alright. Let’s do it.”
A few simple twists with a half inch gear wrench and ten minutes later we put another notch in the milestone belt.
Zander was a natural. Just as he does everyday when I drop him off at school, he took off without even considering a look back. Zella, a bit more tentative, took a few minutes to adjust to the new sensation of balancing herself but like her brother was off and running in no time. They were as excited as I’ve seen them, overflowing with pride and a newfound confidence at having accomplished such a great feat.
Never Looked Back
Not to be Denied
The Dynamic Duo
And me? Well, as proud as I may be of my two little raccoons it still hurts a little to realize that they are growing up in spite of my desires to the contrary. I’m feeling a bit more like the trainers that have been removed……
Obsolete
The fog comes on little cat feet….
Except they weren’t cat feet. And it wasn’t fog. It really wasn’t very silent. And it never moved on.
It was a precocious five year old who claimed to have had “a dream.”
“That’s funny,” I mumbled to myself in my stupor. “I had a dream too. I dreamed that I was asleep!”
“Come on in.”
The invitation unnecessary as she had already made herself quite comfortable next to me commandeering my pillow and shoving me to the edge of the bed.
Ten minutes is an eternity when you’re up at 4. It’s also the exact amount of time it took Zander to realize Zella was not in her bed.
He looked in the hall.
He looked in the bathroom.
He looked in the living room, the kitchen, the study…
I know this for he left a trail of lights. An illuminated checklist of the places his sister was not. He repeated his search calling out in a raspy voice. ”Zella? Zella?”
It was pitiful.
And annoying.
“Zander, she’s in here,” I called to him.
“Why is she in here?” he asked crawling over me never bothering to ask permission.
“She had a dream. Come on in,” I again unnecessarily said.
“Now it’s a party!”
The remainder of what would have been prime sleeping hours I struggled with what little space had been left for me fighting with the cramping in my neck — consequence of having relinquished control of my pillow. I glanced at the clock.
A mere five minutes before the alarm was to go off. Or would have gone off had I set it last night.
I hadn’t.
So now I sit here groggy and in need of more coffee trying to convince myself that I should be thankful for my late night – early morning visitors. Without them, Zoë, Zane and Zia would have missed school today because I had overslept due to forgetting to set the alarm.
Trying, I say because I’m up about to start the second pot and the twins are still sleeping.
In my bed!
