Son-Three has had four home games since Saturday--that's a lot of soccer and I've noticed a funny thing happening as I sit on the sidelines watching the game and all the activity going on both on and off the field (and the surrounding fields). Though they're all dressed a little differently, the cliques of girls and the packs of boys are still divided into fairly recognizable groups--the jocks, the punks, the preps. I can't help getting the feeling that high school hasn't changed all that much. On the one hand, it's kind of comforting--maybe the world isn't hurtling straight into the toilet as I sometimes suspect--but on the other hand, it's sort of terrifying because who would wish high school on their own children?
Remembering high school and soccer games past, a story of Baby Brother's soccer-playing days came to mind. His goal (ha ha--get it?) was to guard a particular player on the opposing team. Apparently, he was staying right on top of the guy and the guy, frustrated and annoyed, finally blurted out, "Are you gay or what?"
Baby Brother, without hesitation, said, "Yeah, you busy tonight?"
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