A few weeks ago we were able to meet up with some friends we haven’t seen in a while. My buddy Lozo from college, his wife and their daughter Madison. Maddy is 13 days younger than Will, so whenever we have a chance to get together and let our kids play, we do it.
But make no mistake, it’s not all just friendly shenanigans.
Parents of kids the same age are always watching, judging and using their kids as measuring sticks. Mine is walking, mine is talking, mine does calculus while simultaneously performing an Olympic gymnastics routine on the uneven bars. It’s not malicious or anything, but it’s natural for parents to show off their kids a little.
First of all, Will is a gigundo baby. He’s huge for his age. I haven’t measured his height lately but last time he was off the charts. And now he weighs nearly 35 lbs. Meanwhile Maddy is the cutest little peanut you’ve ever seen. I can scoop her up with one hand, as opposed to the crane that’s required to get my son off the ground.
The two of them were both very cute and equally adept at naming colors, foods, animals, numbers, etc. And while Maddy is a much better dancer than Will and nearly brought the house down when she curtsied, Will has her beat in the independence department because she still doesn’t sleep in her own bed.
They were neck and neck as the night wore on, when finally it came down to throwing a baseball. I smiled to myself because I’ve been working with Will on throwing and hitting, and he’s pretty good. He can toss a baseball and football a damn good ways. So I put the ball in his hand, stepped back a few feet and told him to toss it to me. He did, and while it wasn’t his best throw it reached me and I sat back and waited for everyone to be duly impressed.
Then Lozo grabbed the ball, gave it to Maddy, and my whole world fell apart.
Maddy, this pint-sized Lilliputian of a toddler, grabbed that ball and proceeded to wing that shit across the room to her father. I mean, shit…she hucked it. On a line. Like fucking Vladimir Guerrero trying to throw a runner out at the plate. I was speechless. Thinking it must’ve been a fluke, I had her try it again. Same result. Lozo (who is a New York Yankees fan I might add) was beaming and I was praying for death. But my agony was far from finished. Then he tossed the ball back at her, and she caught it. Plucked it right out of thin air.
Fuck. Throwing and catching.
I tried to get Will to throw the ball again but he had already lost interest. I pulled him away from the book he was trying to read and forced the ball in his hand.
“C’mon buddy, let’s play catch. Now REALLY try to throw this one OK?” I pleaded with him. But Will no longer cared and he half-heartedly threw the ball again…but this time it went backward.
Lozo was in his glory. My son had been bested athletically not only by his offspring, but his female offspring. Will got beat by a girl. At sports. A Yankee fan girl beat my Red Sox loving boy at baseball. There is no greater shame, and no more profound sorrow.
“She’s got some arm, huh?” Lozo said to me with a smirk, obviously gloating.
As you may have gathered by this point, dear readers, I am many things. But a gracious loser is not one of them.
“My son is going to grow up and nail your daughter.”
You see, Will’s arm will get stronger and he’ll eventually overtake Maddy in that department, and I won’t have to worry about it. But Lozo has a little girl and I have a boy. I have to worry about one penis, but Lozo? Lozo has to worry about ALL penises for all time.
Gotta hit him where it hurts!