Number four has taken up AFL (Aussie rules football). I've always called the sport "Aussie no rules", as to the uneducated spectator, it resembles an all-in fight that an oval ball pops out of occasionally.
There's lots of running about, both into and over the opposition, with fists and boots flying in profusion. There's blood and sweat but never tears.
Well who knew? There's rules! Number four has been three times and has been sent off twice. The coach is very impressed. Apparently no child has managed to knock over the one #4 took on for the past three seasons, and #4 did it twice, and that was just in training.
The boys are grouped by age but no-one, except the new boy, is ever put against this infant behemoth. He is the height and weight of some-one at least five years older. His parents have his birth certificate laminated to produce as and when needed. #4 was told to brace whilst the baby ogre tried to push him over, so he did. Baby ogre was sweating and turning red ( not attractive over a green skin), but #4 budged not an inch. Right says the coach, swap sides. #4 pushes the baby ogre over. Baby ogre bursts into tears. (Another Christmas card list we're off, it all saves me money in the long run.)
I huddled quietly at the side lines pretending the mighty midget with the psychopathic outlook was not mine.
Things I have Said To My Husband Today
3 years ago