Family olympics

You learn a lot of things in kindergarten that are never officially tested in adulthood, such as following simple directions, waiting your turn, coping with frustration, and eating sensibly. I think there should be an exam in adulthood to test retention of these concepts, and I think failure should get you sent to kindergarten summer school for adults. The test: successfully operate the hotel lobby waffle maker.

Would you pass?

On another subject, at the big family picnic today (where all the really old people are closely related and the youngest are something like third cousins) there were games for the kids. Back in the day, I dominated many of these games because I was older than my cousins and most of my second cousins. Kick a shoe really far? Hop in a burlap sack with great speed? Please. I won so many dollar bills that I could've built a giant creepy shrine to George Washington.

Now that I've retired from competition (aside from the shoe kick, which I lost this year to two cousins who were in diapers in my hay-day; now they're each like seven feet tall and have amazing leg extension), Lyla had to represent. Her event was a sprint of around 30 meters against other kids up to age five.

I almost got all John McEnroe in the face of the game organizer, my aunt with her bullhorn. Five years old is over three times Lyla's age. You can't be serious! Most of those kids haven't shat their pants in years.

But I'm cool. Whatever. It's fine. It's FINE. So I put my mom and sister at the finish line, and I held Lyla at the start. Immediately she started struggling, just wanted to get away, to be free, like a bull with rubber-banded testicles. Finally Auntie Bullhorn said "Go!" and I released my grip and Lyla charged toward Lori and Grandma.

Out of nine kids, most on steroids, Lyla came in eighth. The girl she beat got distracted and didn't finish, God bless her. Lyla got a dollar, some bubbles, and a big purple ball. Then she slept almost the entire drive home.