Remember all that business a while back about what the right decision was - to force my kid to play ball or not?
Ya well, he's playing.
I gave First Born Son several weeks to ponder on his own, then set a deadline and advised him if he didn't have a summer sport selected before the end of the week, he was going to be signed up for softball.
Not too much resistance. I was cautiously optimistic.
Then Saturday came. He kicked up a bit of a fuss but agreed to go to the Community Centre where we signed him and Second Born Son up for their teams. He's happy, strolling around and checking out the display of BALL GEAR ARRANGED NEAR THE MINOR BALL REGISTRATION TABLE. Things get a little confusing, cheques are written, forms are completed.
I'm so flustered, I tick two boxes - one I meant to - to volunteer to help on SBS's team, and the first box, which was a Freudian slip - to volunteer to help on FBS's team. Not wanting to make a scene and being on a rather tight schedule, we leave and I explain the situation in the truck on the way home.
"So I DID tick the box on your sheet, but I don't need to be a coach for your team," I explain to First Born Son. "I meant to mark down on SBS's form."
He's not overly concerned and spends the next 10 minutes debating the pros and cons of having me involved with the team. Apparently I'm more of an asset than a liability in his eyes. I, however, have not yet decided how I feel on the matter. I've enjoyed coaching, but with boys in the 12-13 age bracket, I'm not sure I can handle their hormones, and those of their little girlfriends.... The Head Coach has asked me to return again, but for many reasons, I'm firmly on the fence.
The Head Coach happened to be at our house for an unrelated matter when FBS comes in the room and announces that not only is he playing, but I'm helping coach the team.
My mom figures that his motivation was less than honorable - perhaps he figures if he has to play ball, I have to coach!
Like mother, like son.
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