You guys. It’s happening again. This time, the other kid.
My mother-in-law and I went shopping after Thanksgiving and I suggested this little hockey set to help check Jake off her list. I figured my husband would get a kick out of playing it with him and then, like every. single. other. toy friends and relatives got these two on Christmas, it would be cast aside in favor of staring at Disney Jr. on the TV or iPad. (Sorry, everyone else. If it makes you feel better, even the treasured Doc McStuffins toys haven’t been played with in two days already.)
Nope. That little boy kissed and hugged this little hockey set last week when he opened it and has been playing with it nearly non-stop since. (Well, with breaks for sleep, daycare, baths, and some Disney Jr. But not dinner – he lost his mind when we tried to get him to stop playing hockey for dinner.) He also got a Bruins hat. The kid taught himself how to put it on his head without my help because he wants to wear it so badly. (Ok, that’s a bonus. Perhaps I can find some Bruins underwear for when we tackle the potty scenario.) All the while, singing HOCKKKEEEEYYYYY!
Over the course of a week, visions of my future have been relegated to learn-to-skate programs and tiny hockey gear, mornings at ice rinks, rec leagues, travel teams and varsity games… eventual scholarship? Well who knows. But I do know this: Bye bye, discretionary fund.
I grew up enjoying art and music – like my mother and father respectively. I took art classes at the University of Hartford in high school on the off-chance there was a good enough talent there to build a career (there wasn’t) and went all-in with marching and symphony bands through college. (Enough talent for a scholarship at a non-music school but that’s about it.)
Mom and Dad, I hope there was a little joy in reliving the things you love through me.
Because it seems I AIN’T GONNA HAVE IT.
If you need me, I’ll be the one with my earbuds listening to marching band tapes while freezing my butt off and cheering for my kid at some hockey rink next year.