Easy enough.
I walk over to the basket of tennis balls and offer one to a little girl in a pink dress standing nearby. She happily snatches it from my hand and runs back to her mom. A boy runs over and asks, “Can I play with a ball too?”
“Sure,” I say and grab one out.
He takes it, but just stands there looking at me. He’s got what I presume is chocolate outlining his mouth and short blond hair. Now we’re in an awkward stare down. Finally I say, “Can you do this?” I proceed to dribble the ball using my tennis racket. He lights up and tries to do the same. The ball bounces off his foot and rolls across the gym. I brace myself for crying, but he just runs after it.
When he returns he says, “Did you see how fast I can run?”
“You were fast.”
“My name’s Hudson. What’s your name?”
“I’m Eddie.”
“This is hard.” He attempts to dribble the ball again with his racket.
“It takes practice,” I try to reassure him.
“What takes practice?” A girl’s voice reaches my ears, and I look down to see three more kids.
“Doing this.” I begin bouncing the ball in front of me.
“Whoa. You’re good at tennis,” another boy pipes in.
I smirk, thinkingif only this is all it takes.Instead, I say, “Thank you. Do you guys want to try?”
Before I know it, twenty preschoolers are surrounding me. Everyone is attempting to dribble the tennis ball. I start to feel my shoulders relax. The kids are laughing and having fun trying to copy the different skills I show them.
We do a team relay, and then I show them how to do a forehand volley. After that, they’re asking me for their fourth drink break. I oblige, because honestly, it takes up time, and I’m starting to wear out from all their questions.
Maya is a huge help though. I could not get the kids organized on my own, that’s for sure. It’s like herding golden retriever puppies—cute, but easily distracted. As the kids rush off to grab their water bottles from their grown-ups, Maya walks over.
“You’re doing a great job, Eddie. I’m very impressed with your preschool social skills.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“You know what I mean,” she says and nudges my elbow. She smiles, which I’m noticing comes incredibly natural and easy for her. It’s like she has a lit up Christmas tree always sparkling behind her eyes.
I don’t realize I’m staring at her until she nervously looks down at the racket in her hands. To move past the awkwardness,I ask, “So, what do you think we should do next? I’m running out of ideas.”
Maya tilts her head to the side. “How about a game? Kids usually love Sharks and Minnows.”
“What’s that?”
“Most of the kids are the minnows and have to run from one side of the gym to the other, without being tagged by sharks.”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
Maya gathers everyone and explains the rules of the game, and the kids bounce excitedly. Then, she says, “Eddie and I will be sharks to start.”
Cheers erupt.
“Don’t let us get you,” Maya teases before yelling, “Go!”
You’ve never seen chaos until you’ve seen twenty preschoolers running wildly to escape a pretend shark. And do not let their age fool you, 3 and 4 year olds are quick.
When we’ve successfully tagged all the minnows, Maya and I are huffing and puffing. “Who wants to be sharks next?” she asks. At least fifteen hands shoot up. Maya chooses two, says go, and then she and I walk over to the sideline.
