Since Angie brought home this beauty on Sunday, naming her the Runner-up for her division of the Jefferson County Middle School Tennis league, we've been transitioning to basketball. Meaning she played, 5 tennis matches from Friday-Sunday, and then her first basketball game Monday. Busy, busy!
Angie's not quite ready to devote her life to tennis {sigh}, so she wanted to join the basketball team. After a few practices that seemed to be growing longer each day, there was a Parent Meeting, where they informed us that our sixth graders would be conditioning from 3:30-5pm and practicing from 5-7pm Monday through Friday. Note the italics, yes they're sixth graders, not professional athletes. Don't pull out your calculator, I already did the math = 17.5 hours of practice per week. This was a stark contrast to the middle school tennis season where there was one single practice, which was rained out before it began. It was also a contrast to my college sports days where hours like that were reserved for preseason two-a-days. We discussed it, slept on it, prayed about it, considered the insanity of not seeing our child between the hours of 7am and 7pm Monday-Friday, and called the coach to quit. However, we didn't get very far. As there are only 5 girls on the team, it turns out we have quite a bit of pull, since our child's participation is vital to their season. It's also possible the athletic director saw a lawsuit coming. So they cut practices down to 6 hours/week. Intense, but manageable.
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| Which one of these is not like the other? (Hint: Pink) |
At the same parents' meeting they asked us parents if we wanted the kids shoes to match, to which of course none of us responded, because we couldn't care less, and we didn't have time as the kids were all screaming "YES!" in unison like their lives depended on it. So, to appease the kids without startling the parents after the sticker-shock of the uniform price tags we'd just seen, the coaches told us they'd do a fundraiser. "Okay, whatev, if you're paying for them my kid can wear moon boots to games," we thought.
Until we got an email two days later with this picture:
...and this price tag - $80 (marked down from $129)! Apparently, the fundraiser consisted of sending the parents an email to solicit the funds for these stylin' Nikes. (My 11 year-old does not need more expensive shoes than I've ever worn in my life!)
After many teachable moments with Ange about sponsor children, homeless ministries, missionaries, and ways we choose to use our money to help others, our kiddo remains the only poor ostracized sixth grader with $7 shoes from Wal-Mart. I'm sure this is building character, not resentment, right?
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| Angie shooting free throws; look at the height she can get in her $7 sneakers! |
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| Speaking of height, check out the refs they're hiring these days! You'd think they could afford some full-size dudes as steep as the price of admission is running. |
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| I snapped approximately 759 shots of this mini-fella. #obsessedwiththecuteness |
The game got off to a slow start, no scoring in the first quarter. But after the opposing team hit a three to warm-up the scoreboard, we answered with an uncontested 31 points. Final score: 31-3! Don't worry we played our entire bench, there are only 5 of them...we have no bench.
Morals of the story friends -- if the coach wants your child to play 17 bazillion hours of bball a week and wear shoes that cost more than the space station you don't have to give in. However, if your kid wants to be a referee at the age of the 3, you should let him, 'cause it might just make some parent's day!
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