The Not Nice Kid is an awesome athlete and I don't say that because I'm her mom. Her mom? Can't run and spit at the same time and wouldn't know a grand slam if it showed up in the pasta salad. I follow directions.
She had a make-up soccer game last night...we really are in the process of building arks here because of the rain. And we won, 3-1, and she scored our three goals which is why she's the top-ranked player in this league. Girls and boys. Great game. Good competition.
We came home, fixed supper, did homework, took baths and went to bed. Life is good. We won. She fought hard.
And then TNNK proceded to play soccer ALL NIGHT LONG. The first time she woke up in a panic she came and got in bed with me and The Big Boy went to her bed. (There's not enough room.) And then she worked that soccer field for the rest of the night. She kicked and fought and ran and stole and at one point? Sat straight up in back and yelled, "Keep your positions!" and then turned over and played some more. Long about 2 a.m., she had a nightmare that woke her up and kept her up until six this morning, when she fell back asleep. And it's the nightmare that has me wondering...WTF? (I did let them sleep in and checked her in at ten.)
The nightmare consisted of TNNK, me and The Big Boy. And we were somewhere and some guy shows up on a motorcycle and tries to steal me. And I climbed up on the roof of a truck and turned around and yelled at TNNK and TBB: "Someone do something before all hell breaks loose!" And the guy on the motorcycle steals me and we ride away and they come after him and beat him up and get me back.
Either we have the perfect storybook life (interspersed with profanity) where there's a heroine and a bad guy and a hero, or this kid is smoking stuff I didn't know we had. When I finally dropped them off at school this morning? I came home and had cheese and salami and wine for breakfast because...my day's not just startin'.
I'm done and it's not noon yet.
Do y'all know I'm 53 years old? And this kid is NINE?