My husband and I are HUGE basketball fans.  Our favorite team is the San Antonio Spurs.  Two of our favorite players is their power forward Tim Duncan and guard Tony Parker.  Of course, since Daddy's favorite NBA team is the Spurs it's also my 7 year old son's (MJ) favorite team too ... "monkey see, monkey do" when it comes to those two. 

 

In a hurry out the door one morning on our way to work and school, I managed to lock the front door behind me and MJ... and then realized I had left my keys inside, along with my purse AND my cell phone.  MJ and I walked down the street to a neighbor's house to explain our situtation and to ask to borrow the phone so I could call my husband to come rescue us.  My husband in turn informs me it will be at least an hour before he can come home to let us back into the house, so MJ and I go back to wait for him in our garage as the sun is out in full force and it's getting hotter outside by the minute. 

 

Needless to say, I'm irritated at this point.  Very irritated.  MJ tries to keep himself busy and finds a basketball in the garage and asks me if I want to play with him.  I half-heartedly agree, although I'm in no mood to play games.  He proclaims that he will be "Duncan" and dubs me his side-kick, "Parker". 

 

He's bouncing the basketball all over the garage using an empty ice chest as a make-shift basketball hoop.  He's moving and grooving all over the garage, taking shots from all angles.  He passes the ball to me a few times and I throw the basketball in the general direction of the "hoop" but I miss.  MJ runs up to the ball and rebounds my missed shot and then passes the ball back to me to take another shot ... which i miss, AGAIN. 

 

MJ looks at me slightly annoyed out of the corner of his eye, but runs back up to rebound the ball again.  The entire time this is playing out, he's commentating his every move with phrases like "And Tim Duncan rebounds and passes the ball out to Parker!" and "Oh, and Tim Duncan scores 2 more!" and "Duncan is on fire tonight!".  You know, the typical things the sports commentators say during a live NBA game. 

 

After making a few more "baskets" he passes the ball out to me once again, and I once again launch a brick.  Rather than running up and rebounding the ball this time though, he instead snatches the ball up from the floor, looks me dead in the eyes and says "Man Parker, you suck". 

 

It took everything I had not to burst out laughing.  I didn't scold him for using the foul language ("you suck" isn't a phrase allowed in our house ... typically), rather I took it as a lesson learned.  There was no need for my sour attitude, as it was in no way, shape, or form helping our situtation.  It wasn't going to get me to work in time.  It wasn't going to get him to school any earlier.  And it sure wasn't going to get us back inside into the air conditioning any faster.  I hugged my baby, apologized for not trying harder, and asked if "Parker" could play again.  We played for about 15 more minutes and heard Daddy pulling into the drive to rescue us. 

 

It's the little lessons in life :)