Do I Have to Play?

It's another beautiful morning here today. It looks like you could drink your coffee on the deck and watch the golfers...but it is still a little chilly for that (I did try). The Husband is already at work, but the kids are still sleeping...which means I get a few moments of bliss...

I am going to re-visit a familiar theme in this blog. The Boy and his friend..we will call him Z...decided they wanted to play basketball last night around 9:00. They wanted The Husband to play...and me....and they were willing to put up with Little one. The Husband and I looked at each other and yawned...and debated if we were in for the night. But they were persistent...so off we went to the court.
The last time I did this (Thanksgiving)...I came away with a black eye and a nose that looked broken. I had decided at that point that I was finished with any games with The Husband and Boy. But the friend and The Boy kept heaping on false praise ("Come on mom, you've still got game. Don't be a wimp!") And in a weak moment, I agreed to play. It was agreed that I would be on The Husband's team so that he would not be tempted to injure me. Little One would join us against the boys.
It was a rousing game. The Boy and friend are no longer little boys. They were playing together and coaching each other like it was NBA....and despite the fact that The Husband was saddled with the two girls...he held his own. I refused to go anywhere near the basket, because I was afraid of getting hurt. The one time I tried...the friend came down on me and then had to spend 10 minutes apologizing...Little One used her tactic of kicking their shins when they stole the ball from her...
At 10:00, the lights automatically go out at the gym...I admit to being thankful for this. The score was somewhere in the 100's...and I was ready for a shower and a good book. The boys were sweet and grateful that I had played.( "Thanks mom, you've still got game!...Yeah Mrs. M....nice shooting")...Please. It has come to this? The false flattery to make you feel better? How depressing. Of course, I convinced myself that having already run and worked out in the morning...I was just tired. Isn't it great how the mind can come up with excuses?...

We returned home and Little One and I became girls again and watched Project Runway reruns. The Boys watched the Hawks game and bragged about their game on facebook, not caring that I had to monitor every word...the Husband hit the couch with the paper and didn't move...a perfect night...

Until tomorrow....