I'm thinking that there is little chance that we're going to make it as finalists for the 'Grandparents of the Year Award'.
This weekend, we had the Grandbabes while their parents went to Toronto. At six and almost-four, they're great fun and entertainment & although they leave us totally worn out, we love to have them.
On yesterday's agenda, was taking Scotty to his hockey game. Brian hasn't been able to make it to any previous games, but I've been telling him about great he's been doing. He's so focused and works his little heart out - as Lauren likes to say 'Scotty wooks hawd'.
Brian helped him get dressed while Lauren & I waited on the bench. When our little #16 came out, we watched his every move like a hawk - especially vigilant as we were the Responsible-Adults-On-Hand in lieu of The Parents. Both teams wore red - one a just a little darker burgundy so it took particular focus to keep our eyes glued right on him.
He wasn't his usual little bulldog self - getting in there with great determination & skating with surprising agility for the fact that only a year ago he skated like he was riding a scooter. I was thinking that maybe Brian didn't have his skates tied up properly, or perhaps he liked to impress his parents more than us, or that he was just having an off day as he seemed to be falling more than usual & just not 'in there' as he normally is. I asked Brian if the position that he was playing was one where he was supposed to hang back more. But, we cheered him on and celebrated all seven goals the team got.
At supper we were telling him how much we enjoyed his game and how well he played. He explained that if 'so & so, and so & so' was on his team, that they would have won. 'But you did win', we told him. 'No ... we lost', he replied. 'Oh no ... you WON', we countered - 'Seven to Two'. 'We had the two', he said. 'No ... you had SEVEN', we insisted. 'No, two.' he replied calmly, without even a trace of impatience with his doddering old grandparents. 'No Scotty... really - you WON', we said again. 'Nah ... we only got two goals, the Little Cullitons are gooder than us.', he stated factually. The thought came to us both at the same time, but we soldiered on. 'Aren't you the Little Cullitons?' we asked. 'No, we're the other Red shirts that are a different Red from their Red shirts'. We still wouldn't accept it. 'Are you sure?' we asked. I said to Brian, 'Go out to his hockey bag and read the back of his shirt'. He shook his head 'That won't work - they keep them there.'. We tried again, determined that there was no possible way that we had spent the entire game watching the wrong child. 'Which end did your goalie stand in? 'The end far down.' he replied, still so intent on eating his dinner that he wasn't watching the look of horror, embarassment & disbelief that we were sharing back and forth. 'You played really well.' we assured him, while looking at each other, shaking our heads at our incompetence & trying to keep from laughing.
Hopefully we can redeem ourselves during soccer season - as long as they don't wear hats.