So Cheesy



There Is No Problem

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.



What a Sacrifice

And then cheer season ended.

Sort of.

Today was the last home game of the middle school football season, which means it was the last home game for a certain cheerleader to stand on the sidelines and be all the things that I never was as a kid. Alexis loves every second of sideline cheer, which is probably a good thing because you can't just do football cheer in our school district. You have to do basketball as well, so cheer season won't really end for months. But, it was the last home football game, so things sort of ended today. You follow?

I declared it the end of a chapter, regardless of the details that would argue with that statement. For the last of anything, I feel like you should do something special, so I took the girls for ice cream after the game. I mostly took myself for ice cream, but that's not the point. The girls think I did something special for them. Let's go with that.

So. Ice cream. We didn't have time to go to my favorite place or even my second favorite place, so we stuck with the place near the football field. The girls are always happy no matter what, so I'm the only one who looks at is as a downgrade. It wouldn't have to be if they would smarten up and get some pecans in stock. All I want is turtle everything, but I will settle for vanilla ice cream topped with fudge and pecans. Alas, this particular ice cream place doesn't have any of that. So instead of a turtle sundae or turtle ice cream, I went with my third choice in life - a mint chip shake.

There is no shame in a mint chip shake. I just prefer turtle stuff. Stil, I will destroy a mint chip shake if given the chance. Happily.

Alexis got some sort of pumpkin concoction. Mila stuck with the birthday cake. Everyone was happy.

Until we were on our way home. As all small children do, Mila suddenly became obsessed with the notion of trying everyone else's ice cream. Alexis fully plays along with such games, but I am a seasoned veteran. I have spent 13 years ording what I really wanted only to have Alexis take it. I no longer share. Period. If Mila wanted to try a mint chip shake, she should have ordered a mint chip shake. That's how life works in my world.

Mila knows how I feel about sharing ice cream and letting her have "just a taste." Thus, she engaged in shenanigans.

::sigh:: "I guess I better try your milkshake so I know if I like it," she reported from the back seat. As if she was some sort of hero for stealing my milkshake.

I didn't give in, but I did take notes for the future. Mila really does know how to best use words to get her way. I hope the world is ready for all of that.