Oh, no problem. How are they doing?
Steph
Fine
Riley
Just fine?
Steph
Yeah, they’re good
Riley
I found a book called How to Solve 50% of Your Problems. So I bought two.
Think it'll work?
Steph
Are you being seriousright now?
Riley
My mom has a collection of self-help books, and I thought there might be something in there to help me with Aidan. Sorry, the corny dad joke just came to me
Riley
Steph?
So you don't like dad jokes
Noted
“Alex!”Icalldownthe hall. “Hurry up if you’re coming with me. Your brother’s game is aboutto start.”
Matty’s football team is playing their biggest rivals tonight, the Lakeview Prep Lions, and the whole town is likely to turn out for it. If we don’t get there soon, we’re going to have a problem finding seats.
“Alex!” I shout again, only to be startled by his face suddenly appearing before mine as he rounds the hall. As is typical these days, I’m surprised to find myself looking up at my son. It’s like I blinked and he sprouted up four inches. He’s not as tall as his brother’s six feet, but they’ve both surpassed me at this point, and I’m still not used to it. Or to the fact I have two boys in high school now.
Sigh.
He rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a whiny tone. “I’m here, Mom, let’s go already.”
Sigh, again.
I usher him out to the car, and we head over to the high school, cringing when I take in the traffic backed up on the street outside. Deciding not to attempt braving the parking lot, I opt to circle the block, eventually finding a spot on the next street over. Alex trails behind me, face in his phone screen as we make our way towards the field where I can already hear the roar of the crowd, signifying the game has begun. Glancing at my own phone, I see we’ve likely missed the opening ceremony and kick-off, though not by much.
“Fri-day night liiiiights!” someone shouts from behind us as we’re enveloped in the sea of bodies moving slowly towards thestands, and then “Go Eagles!” from somewhere to our left. I’m immediately discouraged at the prospect of finding seating as I take in the packed bleachers, but luckily, catch sight of Matty’s sweet girlfriend, Priya, waving to us from a few rows up, seemingly having saved us seats.
“Priya!” I exclaim, taking her in once we’ve reached our spots. “What happened to your leg?” Priya is a cheerleader, so I’d been expecting to see her watching from the edge of the field with the rest of her squad, not tucked away up here with a wrapped ankle and crutches.
She frowns, looking down at said ankle in frustration. “I sprained it in practice two days ago. They told me it’s a grade three sprain, whatever that means, and I have to stay off it for two whole weeks!”
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“Thanks,” she sighs.
