It's Just Us

Kids and dogs and pick-up basketball
As I sit here trying to work, my son Ryan and his friends are playing a game of basketball in the driveway. More often than not, the ball bangs against the house or garage door and sounds like a sonic boom every time. I jump, lose whatever train of thought I may have been wrestling with, and sigh. Now sometimes I actually like the noise he and his friends make – it’s the sound of life. But not always and not when I’m under a deadline.

My daughter and the dog are busy running circles around the room while flinging Barbie in the air and playing catch. Sound of life? Okay, sure.

What do I do while all of this is going on? I start getting annoyed, of course, which leads me to begin saying dad-like things:
* Knock it off!
* Knock it off!
* Knock it off!
* Knock it off!
* I’m not kidding, knock it off!
* I’m not kidding, knock it off!
* I’m not kidding, knock it off!
* I’m not kidding, knock it off!
* I mean it!
* I mean it!
* I mean it!
* I mean it!

Now don’t think that I just keep saying these things without thinking about it. No, I pay attention to what is going on and definitely to those who are not paying attention to me.

Of course I don’t always expect them to pay attention to me, it is just that I would like them to pay attention when I want them to, not when it suits them. That rarely happens. Really rarely.

Dad-speak

So, where were we? Oh, yeah, dad-speak. Well by now my vocabulary has more or less sunk to the following level:
* Keep the ball off the house!
* I told you two to go play outside! Daddy has to work.
* I mean it, go play outside or in your room.
* No you can’t go on the roof to get the ball.
* I mean it, go play outside or in your room.

Naturally pretty soon I get mixed up and start saying the wrong thing to the wrong kid and then son and daughter look at me like I’m from outer space. Like they do so often anyway.

Has the Barbie pick-up game between daughter and puppy stopped yet?
No. So what do I do? I slowly start to get out of my chair. I think that this will get their attention, make them think that they are really in trouble, and they will leave (have you noticed that by now I have started thinking that the dog is just another kid out to bug me? Sometimes I almost do think that and yes, it is a bit weird).

“Daddy, sit down! You are getting in the way!”
“Getting in the way? This is my office!”
“Daddy!”
“Daddy nothing! You two scram.”
“But Daddy, can’t you see we’re playing?”

“Yes I can see that, but can’t you two see that I am trying to work?” (Yes, I’m still talking as if the dog understands every word. Give me a break, I’m a bit frustrated).

“We’re just playing.”
“Well play somewhere else.”
“We like playing here.” “Yeah, well why do you like playing here so much?”
“Because you’re here.”

She knew exactly what to say to get me to cave. She pulls out the emotional, cute, loving daughter thing and smiles.

Do you know what I did after she said that? I caved.

I turned off the computer, took off my shoes, and crawled down onto the floor with the two of them. As soon as I did that, it wasn’t hard to concentrate at all. I had simply been trying to concentrate on the wrong thing.

Driveway basketball

My favorite games to watch are soccer (because my kids play and that got me interested in Manchester United among other teams) and driveway basketball.
In driveway basketball there are no time-outs, no one is ejected from the game, there aren’t any referees, and scoring is mostly a haphazard guess. It’s sports in a more pure form. No companies, no sponsors with names on shirts, no agents, no hundred-million this and billion dollar that. Certainly no absurd stadiums. And no one ever gets locked out unless they’re being a poor sport and then usually a parent quickly takes care of it.

My home has a basketball hoop in a large portable stand in the driveway. When I was younger I never saw myself actually owning one of those. But I do. My son and I found one fairly nearby on craigslist.com and bought it and hauled it home.
That thing is like milk to an infant. As soon as we started to assemble it, his friends came over and the first game started the minute it was finished. Between my son and his friends and my daughter and her friends, (plus one goofy dog) I may have to put up a schedule with a sign-up sheet on it. And you know what?

That’s okay.

Now if the dog would just quit trying to catch the ball and slobbering all over it.