Merrily we roll along into winter sports. G tries out for bowling. He already has his Varsity letter, and he just loves it. Now that he has a smartphone, he can take pictures of his scores and text them to me.
They are pretty impressive. His average is easily in the 150s (this from my spiky, inconsistent kid once upon a time. No longer. He knows how to roll.) I ask him when I pick him up, "So are you on the team?"
"I'm not sure." This is his standard answer, whether he wants to evade the question altogether or is legit not sure.
When he get home, he yells in from the living room while I'm in the kitchen cooking dinner, "Hey mom, so pictures are tomorrow in the gym."
"For what?"
I can hear the eye roll from two rooms away. "BOWLING. I got the shirt and schedule today."
I stop what I'm doing. Stick my head in the living room. "Um. I thought you said you weren't sure if you made the team."
He looks at me blankly. I continue.
"I'd say if you have the shirt, and the schedule, AND have to go for pictures, you're on the team. Am I right?"
My honor student's (!) face lights up. "oh, YEAH!"
Yep.
No comments:
Post a Comment