Poor Aunt Kellie

With children in different sports, it's not always easy to make sure everyone gets to where they're supposed to be. You know that saying "it takes a village to raise a child"?  Well, sometimes it takes a village to get a child to wrestling practice, especially when his parents are busy watching his brother's basketball games.

We've had to ask favors of friends and family alike during the wrestling/basketball season.  This particular night is was Aunt Kellie to the rescue.  She volunteered to pick Gage up from school and take him home with her.  He was excited because he'd get to play with his cousins before practice, something he's certain doesn't happen with near enough frequency.

When she got to the school to pick him up she noticed something was missing, though.  His wrestling bag.  "It's at home," he told her in a rather matter-of-fact voice, as he wriggled into the backseat of her suburban with his four cousins.

Knowing he'd need his shoes and head gear at practice, she drove out of her way to run him back home. He ran in and grabbed his bag from the back of the kitchen chair and, a few minutes later, they were on their way to her house.

Fast forward a couple of hours. Suburban full of kids.  Half-way to the school.  A look in the rear-view mirror.

Gage was still wearing his school clothes.  He had on jeans.  A big no-no in the wrestling room as zippers and buttons can put holes into the very expensive and difficult to repair mats.  "Gage, why are you still wearing your jeans?  You need to put on your sweats or shorts, whatever you're going to wrestle in."

"I didn't bring anything else to wrestle in."

"But I took you home so you could get your wrestling stuff."

I can imagine the look he gave her.  The shrug of the shoulders.  The grin.

I can also imagine the frustration and exasperation she must have been feeling by this point. There's no way she had the time to take him home yet again, not when she still needed to stop at the local Subway to pick up a fundraiser for the wrestling club.

Luckily, she's a quick thinker.  "Mike, give your cousin your sweatpants."

Seconds later, Gage was in possession of his cousin's sweatpants.  They were a bit small, but they worked.

I'm not sure where the shorts came from that Mikey wore that night, but I imagine he had them on underneath his sweats.  Or, perhaps they were in the back of the suburban.  Either way, I'm grateful. Grateful to Mikey for his willingness to share and grateful that my sister-in-law found the humor in the situation.