We took the kids to a charity
bowling event yesterday supported by the NBA. Usually I'm a horrible
bowler. But yesterday I was on a hot streak. I bowled two strikes and
a spare early on.
The attractive black man in the
lane next to ours was impressed. "Shoot! I'm gonna have you
throw my ball for me!" he said.
I laughed.
"Nah...you don't want me! This is the best I've ever
bowled!" I admitted.
He didn't believe me.
"Are you a hustler?" he teased.
"Sshhh!!! Don't
tell!" I joked back and winked at him.
A little while later, Gabe said
to me, "Mommy! I can't believe I got to bowl with Chris Paul
today!"
"Who's Chris Paul?"
I asked.
"MOMMY!!" he
addressed me with frustration. "How can you not know who
Chris Paul is?!"
"I don't know."
I shrugged my shoulders. "Who is he?" I asked.
"He's practically the
best player in the entire NBA!" he professed with excitement.
"Good for you, buddy!
Did you talk to him?" I asked.
"Oh my gosh,
Mommy!" Gabe giggled and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I talked to him! And so
did you!" he focused on my ignorance.
"I did?" I
asked. "Who was he?"
"Mommy! He was the
guy that asked you to bowl for him!" he pointed out.
"Oh! Really?"
I asked.
"Yes!" Gabe
shook his head in defeat.
"Well, then it's a good thing
I was bowling strikes today!" I said with exaggerated relief.
"Mommy...You don't even
care that it was Chris Paul?" he asked me.
"Honey, I don't even know
who Chris Paul is. But I do know that the guy that bowled beside us today
was nice and happy to be here. And for those reasons: I like him," I
told him honestly.
"So when he's on TV
blowing up the court, you're going to cheer for him because he's 'nice and
happy?'" Gabe challenged with macho sarcasm.
"Well, that and the fact that he thinks I'm cool," I nudged him playfully.
Gabe sighed. He knew he
wasn't going to get anywhere with his dorky old mom.
"Well," he confessed, "I guess that's a good reason to
cheer, too."
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