One game = one W, one L and another kind of W

Above is a picture of Ethan in his soccer uniform juggling (soccerspeak for "bouncing off his feet and knees") a golf ball.

This is in lieu of a picture of Ethan playing in his first official game for the junior high because he didn't tell us he had a game.

Ethan, Ya Goof!

This was a make-up for a rain-out on Tuesday, but did Ethan think to mention it to us? No. We're not even the type of parents who yell from the sidelines in embarrassing ways. In fact, we're the type of parents who just watch and clap or moan as appropriate.

Granted, Ethan had an athletic bag with him when I dropped him off at school this morning.

"Ha!" he pointed out after the fact. "You should have known!"

"Ha!" I replied. "I thought you just had a practice. It's the same bag."

In the end, he agreed that is was mostly his fault. It's a bummer to think that we could just have crossed town on a nice fall evening and plopped down our lawn chairs and seen Ethan run around and get himself too tired to get into trouble.

Okay, that was a weak line. Ethan never seems to tire. I remember that age fondly.

And he doesn't get into trouble. (at least, not that he's confessing to). In fact, he acted as a good Samaritan on the way home from the game. He told us that he came across a kid in front of the elementary school who was having trouble with his bike. Ethan couldn't fix the bike, but he walked the kid home, a few blocks out of the way.

"I just didn't feel right about leaving him there," Ethan said. 'That why I was so late getting to the Y and calling for a ride."

A little gesture, but huge to me. I was proud to hear that. If we'd been at the game, I suppose Ethan wouldn't have come across the boy and helped him.

So I have mixed feelings. I would have liked to have seen the game (a win for Ethan's team by the way), but I can settle for seeing him juggle a golf ball on our lawn.