When Spiders Tell You To Pay Attention
Some days I'm one of those parents. I sit at soccer practice, my nose buried in a laptop, not paying any attention. Did Alexis just do something cute? I don't know, I'm busy trying to get some work done.
Balance doesn't come easy. Sometimes it requires that you miss out on a goal. Or two.
As Alexis ran up and down the field, I dutifully scrolled through the images, editing and preening and doing all of the things that are required to prepare photographs for a client. The whistle sounded and I ignored it. Alexis kicked the ball and I missed it. All of it. I was busy.
The wind picked up and the sky darkened, but I continued to focus on my laptop. The breeze grabbed hold of my hair and whipped it all around. I thought of that super-annoying song as I reached up and swiped my much-too-long bangs out of my eyes.
It wasn't my bangs that were covering my eyes.
It was a daddy longlegs.
I didn't scream, but only because I was very focused on not throwing my laptop at the spider as it casually strolled away. OK, so I know a daddy longlegs isn't technically a spider but I DON'T CARE. IT HAS MORE LEGS THAN ME AND DOESN'T BELONG ON MY FACE OMG.
I quickly stood up, shaking as I did the full-body bug search that everyone does when they've discovered a creepy crawly where there isn't supposed to be a creepy crawly. I glanced towards the field just in time to see Alexis dribbling the ball down field, a huge grin on her face. She hadn't seen my silent freak out as she was lost in her own world, but she would have been laughing hysterically if she had.
She thinks it's funny when I'm subjected to misery.
Apples. Trees. Blah, blah, blah. I know where that comes from.
My concentration was broken, so I found my eyes wandering to the sky. Dark clouds were rolling in, tumbling and flipping and issuing a visual warning -- A storm was coming. Soon.
I looked at the soccer coach and wondered if he realized what was happening. An open field filled with little kids is the start of a news story starring a bolt of lightening, and I really didn't want to see a name I knew in the headline. "Surely he'll call off the rest of practice," I thought to myself.
Only 15 minutes remained in the practice, so no harm done. Just let the kids go. Better safe than sorry. You do realize that kid is really important to me, right? RIGHT, COACH?
The coach stood staring at the sky as he continued to usher the kids one direction and then the other. Lightning cracked in the distance.
It was then that I knew the coach probably isn't a parent. He didn't jump the way I did, nor the way all of the other parents did. It was if an army of spiders had walked across faces because every parent sprung to their feet and looked at their kid.
It's funny how you'll mess around with lightning if it's just you, but when your kid is standing in an open field? OH HELL NO.
We all inched our way towards the kids, still waiting for the coach to figure out that lightning means GAME OVER. GO HOME. BUH-BYE. But he didn't. A minute passed and he still hadn't made a decision, so finally someone had to tell him.
Send the kids home. It's the right thing to do.
Alexis grabbed my hand and we rushed to the car, just barely managing to get buckled up before the skies opened up in earnest and rain poured from the sky.
I would have missed SO much if not for that stupid spider.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Reader Comments (2)
Eh. You probably would've figured it out eventually when all the other parents rushed the field and Alexis came up to ask why you weren't going home yet, right?
It is funny, isn't it? How we'll mess with stuff and do less-than-safe things when it's just us, but risk it for the kiddo? Uh, NO.
pay attention!