Blessed are the coaches who schedule practice in a park where there’s something to keep younger siblings amused, for you save parents much stress and preserve the hearing of everyone within a 10 mile radius.

I was ticked at first that Big Guy’s baseball practice is all the way across town – never mind that “all the way across town” is only a 15 minute drive. I’m getting lazy.

His soccer practices always have been closer to our neighborhood and, more importantly, close enough to his grandfather’s house for potty runs. It doesn’t matter how many times you ask them to go before leaving for practices, you’ll wind up having an emergency at least once during the season.

His soccer practices, though, have always been rioting practice for Boots. From the beginning, he simply hasn’t understood why he can’t play.

The first season was particularly bad. Practice was at a drainage basin near a grade school, and there was nothing for Boots to do but snack and fixate on his fate. The snacking got old after a while, so fixating became his main activity.

That nice coach kept asking Boots to play – there was a kid on the team with the same name – but Mean Mom kept him on the side lines. Why, why, why?

Games were even worse. It got so bad midway through the season that we started leaving Boots with  his grandmother.

Last fall, he was mollified by wearing Big Guy’s uniform from the previous year, plus the promise that next year he’d get to play, too.

Then baseball season rolled around. Baseball, which he practices almost as enthusiastically in the back yard as Big Guy does. And if he can play there, why can’t he also play with the nice coach who would no doubt let him on the team if only Mean Mom weren’t holding him back again.

Then he spotted a huge, spanking new playground. “Mommy! It’s a stwuctuwe! Can we go! Can we go!”

I was hoping you’d ask.

And I hope karma cuts me a break for griping about the practice location “all the way across town.” I see the error of my ways now. The park is just perfect.

It doesn’t stop Boots from still trying to weasel his way onto the team – he made it as far as the “bench” during Saturday’s game – but it has dramatically decreased the hissies.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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