Okay so this is weird. T and the basketball. Now, Mama was educated to be a classroom teacher, so she may know her stuff. I have had various Teds in my classroom. And it is what it is. Your job. The workday. Your year. You deal with it. And then you have one of your own.
But where it really stands out? You can see it on the court. T's different. First he can't run normally. He always has to run up and down the courts in some sort of weird hyped up cartoonish run. And then he flat out walked out of a game to talk to me. No joke, the game was in full swing and he just walked right off the court on the sunny side of the street. I was just sitting in the bleachers not really doing much of anything. T rolls up and told me it would be okay if I cheered (I wouldn't be embarrassing him). I was like, okay. Also, your game is behind you. Just fyi.
But the craziness is he has the genetics all up in surround sound. I mean I was uber athlete and so was bio dad. And he even looks the part: tall, gangly, awesome. But for whatever reason, this dynamic flow of a game is a little bit beyond Teddy's mental grasp. He lives for staccato.
Annnd...by the by..neither of my little stool pigeons have made a basket. I think only Helen tried to throw the ball up once. Meanwhile I am on the sidelines like flooping and plotzing and futzing and ready to jump in at any time for her team . (I am sure they are looking for a sub.)
Waiting for the bus
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