Mila still plays basketball once per week. I don't really know why she loves it as much as she does, but I'm very willing to pay $30 per month for the privilege of watching her run back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. She is terrible at dribbling and shooting, but the running? She's a pro. Some day it will all amount to her being too worn out to destroy my house. It hasn't happened yet, but some day. Maybe.
Part of the reason Mila is terrible at the dribbling and shooting is that she doesn't care. She is constantly distracted by random things and basically doesn't pay attention. If a coach is giving instructions, she's spaced out as she imagines all the ways she's going to destroy me. Even better is when it's her turn to sit on the sidelines. She entertains herself in the nuttiest ways. One week her entertainment was taking off her elastic headband and shooting it across the gym. Repeatedly.
So that was fun.
Her more typical past time is to harass whoever is sitting next to her. I think maybe the other kids would be good at paying attention to their teammates playing, but Mila is there to talk them into spinning on their butts, laughing about something until they all fall over, and who knows what else. I wouldn't call her the class clown, per se, but she's definitely the one driving the clown car.
This week she spent her free time talking and touching the little boy seated next to her. As in, she is HANDSY. She doesn't hit, but she is contantly grabbing people's shoulders and patting their arms and basically talking to her is a full-contact sport. It. Is. Maddening. At least for me.
After basketball this week I commented AGAIN FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME about how we need to keep our hands to ourselves ("we" as if I walk around touching people for no good reason, MILA). Then, randomly, I asked Mila a question that in retrospect didn't make sense to her. She's just not quite old enough to take the question the way I intended, so it didn't stand a chance of making its mark.
"Geesh, Mila. Why do you keep touching him? Do you like him or something?" I asked.
Alexis would have melted on the spot with the question, but not Mila. Of course not Mila.
"Yeah! He's nice. Of course I like him," she replied. It was really a very excellent answer to a dumb question. She continued, "He's nice and we're both strong. Is there a problem with me liking him?"
He's nice.
We're both strong.
I can like whoever I want, thank you very much.
I super like how Mila thinks.
