My 7-year-old's soccer wrap-up event was on Saturday. I don't mean game, I mean event.
They call it 'World Cup Day' and each team represents a country (by random assignment.) They all make banners for their country and march in a parade across the field before playing a tournament that lasts for infinity. I dread it every year.
My son's team this year was Spain, and not only did they have a banner but each kid wore a stick-on mustache and a T-shirt with the Spanish flag and a little sombrero with pom-poms hanging on it from the party store... someone shoot me from all the cuteness.
I don't know. I don't like to sound like a killjoy, but I guess I am in this particular instance. Getting the email from the poor coach asking for volunteers and donated supplies and drivers... it made me sad for her. Why are we doing this? What are the kids getting out of this experience? (Aside from the ubiquitous participatory trophy.)
On the way home, do you know what my son asked me? "What's the World Cup?"
And there you have it.
|If you're a perfectionist like me, you will have noticed immediately that the Creeper and Ghast paper plate decorations on the door are lined up funny. And it's going to bother you all day.|
We tried to encourage some active games, but you really can't avoid sitting around playing Minecraft at a Minecraft party, so that's what the boys did for part of the time.
There was intense debate over whether you need a mod to make Pigzilla. An in-depth discussion on the rarity of spawning chicken jockeys (apparently that's a zombie riding a chicken.) I thought I might see a fistfight over an escalating disagreement on whether or not some bad guy named Herobrine really exists.
To those who aren't familiar with Minecraft, I fully realize it sounds like I'm on drugs right now. That's why I can't stand this game. This is your brain; this is your brain on Minecraft.
On Sunday at church I was walking her back to her class after a pit stop when she said, "Bad guys killed Jesus."
"And then he came back to life, didn't he?" I said.
"Yeah," agreed my 3-year-old. "He re-spawned."
One morning my 3-year-old woke me up by coming into my room at 6 AM and saying, "Do you like this song?" and opening it right in my ear.
That would probably be on my list of least favorite ways to wake up. And why I hate that song now.
I just can't remember it all, so at this point I'm pretty happy if I only forget one special thing per day.
Today is Red Carpet Day in my daughter's class, where the kids wear their finest clothes and have an awards ceremony. Her brother overheard us talking about it yesterday and was thoroughly confused.
Her: I'm so excited for Red Carpet Day!
Him: What's that?
Me: It's a special day in their class where they get awards and dress up.
Him: [long, disbelieving pause] As a red carpet?
"We're supposed to have two a year and I think they forgot," she said, shrugging and helping herself to an apple from the counter.
And that was the moment I realized that she knew adults weren't perfect. That means she probably knows that I'm not perfect. Next will come the criticism. I'm not ready for this.
I pretty much stay out of their bathroom at all costs. So I was pretty delighted when I opened the shower curtain and saw that not only had they been keeping it clean, but that someone has a sense of humor.
|Do not pass 'Go.' Do not collect $200.|
I wonder who that message was really for...