Spring has sprung, and the U13 boys lacrosse teams have been chosen for the highly competitive youth lax season in my little town, where everybody is going to play on a full athletic Division 1 scholarship in just 6 or 7 short years. Word.
This vast pool of extreme athletic talent consists of primarily 6th and 7th grade boys, very few with armpit hair, with the occasional 5th grader thrown in due to wacky birth dates.
(Which is, you may recall, how Boy was last year introduced to new vocab word prevalent in middle school: douche bag.)
While Facebook was alive with parental concern over their little prodigy being on the A team or B team, good team or shitty team, Gold team, Blue team or Douche Bag team, I selfishly had my own major concern of team placement.
It’s the same concern at every highly competitive drafting event, regardless of the ball they’re chasing after:
1. Carpool: First and foremost. Put my kid on a team with somebody who can drive.
2. Non-psycho coach. Preferably unrelated, but if it must be a parent, please have the necessary anger management skills and grasp of reality in place.
3. CVs, resumes, or better yet, Facebook passwords of all sideline parents prior so I can practice proper ass placement, especially during this election year.
That’s it. Carpool, coaches with a clue, personality profiles on all sideline parents.
Let’s play ball.
And a practice night that doesn’t conflict with eleventy-seven other things (hence the carpool requirements)
I should have added that: no practice Friday night. I’m so done being a mom at about 7:15 pm!
Smart woman!!!!!!
I think I have you fooled. Notsosmart; good mom, but notsosmart!
I sure hope this trends.
Hope it doesn’t trend in my town or my carpooling options will be nil and my kid will sit the bench!
Love it! Thankfully, both of my kids’ teams (in their case, spring soccer and baseball) are pre-done, as they’re the same teams as last year and soccer just goes and goes and never ends. But, WORD, nonetheless.
My gosh, but you’re funny.