How You Know Pharmaceutical Commercials Are Overdone
I've discovered a new salve for the souls of both my five-year-old and me...and it's not so new after all. It hearkens back to my grade school days in P.E. and brings back memories of being beaned in the head by overzealous to-be football players.
Yes, I'm talking about dodgeball.
He picked it up one October day during the "school days off" program at the Y. Unbelievable that a purportedly Christian organization would allow such an activity under its roof, but what can you do? He played it and fell in love with the drama, the warfare, and, well, the beaning.
We recently invented a two-player outdoor version of the game in which we throw one of those light-up spiny rubber balls at each other, and the boy who comes home from school sulky and belligerent quickly turns euphoric during our rounds and remains so for quite some time afterward. For my part, the game fulfills a New Year's resolution to spend more time outdoors, and it gives me the exercise that I often miss in the morning.
With temps in the upper 40s F today, we went outside at 3:30 to play for a while. Exuberant over the unseasonably warm weather, I ran around like a nut, taunting my pursuer to come and get me. I even went so far as to run backward across our backyard, urging him to bring it on.
The problem was that I forgot about the sandbox.
Before I knew what was happening, I was falling backward into the Little Tikes slide that winters in the sandbox and then striking one buttock on the edge of the sandbox before landing on my back in the matted grass.
Our boy walked over. "That should be on 'America's Funniest Videos, Mama," he said. It's his favorite show, so I had to forgive him.
Moaning and holding the spots on my calf and thigh that would be bruised, I said, "Usually when we're playing with someone and they fall down, we help them up. Can you help me, please?"
I reached up and grabbed his hand, standing as I said, "Ow, that's really gonna hurt tomorrow. My leg really hurts."
He looked at me. "Maybe you should see your doctor," he said. "Do you have restless legs?"
Yes, I'm talking about dodgeball.
He picked it up one October day during the "school days off" program at the Y. Unbelievable that a purportedly Christian organization would allow such an activity under its roof, but what can you do? He played it and fell in love with the drama, the warfare, and, well, the beaning.
We recently invented a two-player outdoor version of the game in which we throw one of those light-up spiny rubber balls at each other, and the boy who comes home from school sulky and belligerent quickly turns euphoric during our rounds and remains so for quite some time afterward. For my part, the game fulfills a New Year's resolution to spend more time outdoors, and it gives me the exercise that I often miss in the morning.
With temps in the upper 40s F today, we went outside at 3:30 to play for a while. Exuberant over the unseasonably warm weather, I ran around like a nut, taunting my pursuer to come and get me. I even went so far as to run backward across our backyard, urging him to bring it on.
The problem was that I forgot about the sandbox.
Before I knew what was happening, I was falling backward into the Little Tikes slide that winters in the sandbox and then striking one buttock on the edge of the sandbox before landing on my back in the matted grass.
Our boy walked over. "That should be on 'America's Funniest Videos, Mama," he said. It's his favorite show, so I had to forgive him.
Moaning and holding the spots on my calf and thigh that would be bruised, I said, "Usually when we're playing with someone and they fall down, we help them up. Can you help me, please?"
I reached up and grabbed his hand, standing as I said, "Ow, that's really gonna hurt tomorrow. My leg really hurts."
He looked at me. "Maybe you should see your doctor," he said. "Do you have restless legs?"
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 9:57 PM
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