I remember adults saying things like “kids these days… whaddya gonna do??” when we were growing up. Well I guess now it’s our turn. Most of it, at least in our family, is pretty fun really. For example, watching our oldest grandson experience his first baseball game. He’s all of 7 years old, so of course he’s a very early beginner in Little League. The coaches were great and very patient. They placed emphasis on playing and learning; no pressure, just fun. Some of the parents we sat near, however, were a different story. Not many, mind you, but there are inevitably a couple who voice disappointment when their 1st grader is not quickly grasping the path of becoming a professional ball player.
We had no expectations; which was very good because Ollie was not really sure what to do when on the field. Coaches operate a slow pitch machine that’s pretty consistent with getting the ball to the batter. While the coach runs the machine, one of the boys is stationed on the pitcher’s mound. Well, while Ollie was on the mound, the ball came very near him a few times and he just kinda watched it roll around. So we’d yell instructions but I’m not so sure those were really audible to him. There seems to be some sort of shield that protects young players from hearing the shouts of eager loved ones. Probably a good thing!
During the game, our other grandson Gabe, who is all of 3, was of course bored out of his mind. He kept wondering aloud why he couldn’t go out on the field with his brother and the other boys. We tried to explain several times, but the only statement that seemed to sink in was, “you’re not allowed. But that’s OK because we’re not allowed either!!” “Oh…., “ he said with a puzzled look; and played about in the sand behind the backstop. After a half hour or so Gabe sat next to me and looked up, paused for a minute, and said, “Papa, you have hair in your nose!!” “Yes I do,” I replied. “Everyone has it. You have it too but Papa’s nose hairs are easier to see.” Then he asked quizzically, “what’s that for??” “To keep the bugs out!!” I exclaimed. He wrinkled his eyebrows a bit but appeared to accept that one.
The game continued for a little while longer, but they had a formula worked out: 5 strikes at bat, 5 innings, and a maximum of a hour and a half of play. Afterward we had a nice meal and headed for home.
When the work week came, my Beautiful Girlfriend and I were on the phone about our prospective tenant who is interested in renting part of the duplex my Aunt Joyce left behind for us. The new renter sent me a text saying, “well you might be jelly but I found some morel mushrooms!!” My reply was, “ruh??” She went on to say that her 12 year old son uses “jelly” as slang for “jealous.” I quickly found myself outdated, just like I thought the adults were when we were kids. “Doesn’t anyone use English anymore?” was one of my first thoughts. Is that like, Squaresville or what, Daddy-O?? You dig?
This duplex is a blessing and a curse; because although our son lives on one side, we need to have a tenant on the other to pay for taxes, insurance, and et cetera. It’s a nice duplex, really: 3 bedrooms, 2 full baths on each side. Somehow my Beautiful Girlfriend and I got onto the subject of toilets, and the total number we own. She pointed out that the full count was 6: two at our house, and 4 at the duplex. As soon as she was done talking, I blurted out, “holy cow!! We’re a 6-toilet family!!”
Gave us both a much needed belly laugh.
None of the previous scribblings are interrelated; so because of that, the moral of this story should be this: If you get jelly in your nose hairs, don’t bug me; just choose one of the 6 toilets and blow.
Or something.
Speaking of kids… gotta love ’em!! There was a show on TV when we were kids. A man named Art Linkletter interviewed kids and found out that Kids Say The Darnedest Things. Life was a great deal simpler then; because I was… A KID!!