Something About Change

I promise you, our children are idiots, or they think we are. Case in point: my son waited until his junior year of high school to suddenly want to play sports—and not just any sport—wrestling. In my head, I’m thinking this should be interesting. I wrestled in high school and know the physical demand it takes. I love my son, but I knew this would be a challenge.

Let me paint the picture before you think I’m being too hard on the kid. My son hasn’t had an actual gym class since middle school. He goes to a magnet school that doesn’t even have a gym on its campus. Every student at his school takes physical education online. Yes, you read that right—online gym class. This setup means they can play for any sports team in the district. Naturally, my son didn’t choose the high school near us; he picked one based on his friends’ recommendations.

Choosing a school was one thing; he still had to make the team. The school he chose had a two-day tryout. The first day was just conditioning until they quit, and he survived. The next day was more similar, with a few basic wrestling moves. Despite being a true novice, the coach kept him on the team because he’s a bigger kid.

Fast forward two weeks, and this is where the foolishness begins. We kept asking for a schedule of his matches because the school hadn’t updated the wrestling schedule in two years. My son kept saying he’d get it. Then, on Wednesday, we were waiting around to pick him up from practice when we got a text:

“Oh, I forgot to tell you we have a match today. They just finished group one, and three more groups are to go. I will text when I’m done.”

We think nothing of it and decide to talk to him about communication later. He was tired and hungry, so we let it slide.

Then Thursday rolls around. Disclaimer: I am deathly sick, so my patience and tolerance are at an all-time low. He comes home and says, “Oh, y’all told me to let you know when I have an event. Well, tomorrow we have a match. I have to meet my friend at his school at 7:30 a.m. he will drive us to the event.” Also, the location is an hour and a half away.

What in the whole world? The sickness jumps out of my body, and I give my son the classic Samuel L. Jackson stare.

All I can think is he must think we’re “Boo Boo, the Fool.” But out of the corner of my eye, I see my wife giving me the “not my baby stare,” where her little angel can do no wrong.

I calm down, ease into my seat, and tell her, “You can handle this.” I’m like, contact the coach, a friend, or anybody who can corroborate this madness. A little time passes, and eventually, I decide he won’t be attending that wrestling event. He’s supposed to miss a full day of school, and the coach would trust another student to drive them without a permission slip. No way.

I decided he would not attend, but my wife kept researching. Eventually, we got on the coach’s app to communicate with the team. My son wasn’t even on the roster to compete on Friday; his day to compete is Saturday.

So, I ask you all, do you think this was an honest mistake, or do I have a slick kid on my hands?