Tuesday, November 27, 2012

The Lost Shirt

Think of it something like the prodigal shirt- so sad to lose it, and so happy to get it back.  I present to you today, the modern parable:  The Lost Shirt.

Ben has started playing on a basketball league.  He loves it, and I think he's tall enough.  Today was his first game, and he was anxious to get there early.  He was indeed prompt (probably because we didn't take him to the game).  He had fifteen minutes to warm up and get his new basketball jersey.  He's always happy when he can have an earlier pick on the reversible jerseys, and doesn't end up with the smallest one in the bunch.

Ben picked out number 23, close to his lucky number of 13.  He took off the t-shirt he wore today and pulled on the new-smelling jersey.  He took some practice shots and warmed up to play.

Unfortunately, his team lost.  That's what happens when you don't have a practice before the first game, and you have a new team.  But Ben enjoyed playing the game, and came home happy to have played a good game of ball (and they didn't lose by much).

After being home for a few minutes, Ben peeled off his sweatshirt to show me the new, big-enough-for-a-tall-boy jersey.  He looked down to the floor where he had placed his basketball, and got a funny look on his face.  "Mom," he said sheepishly, "I think... no, I did.  I left my shirt at the basketball game.  Can you take me back to get it?  I really have to have it because I only have six shirts and if I lose one then I will only have five and then I'll get ribbed about wearing the same shirt on the same school day.  Please, Mom?"

I made a deal with Trent, and stayed home where it was warm.  I've been so cold lately!  Trent took the three little ones on a ride with Ben, and the five of them high-tailed it back to the school where the game was held.

They pulled into the parking lot, worried that there was only one other car.  "Please, please, please," Ben pleaded, sprinting to the doors.  Locked.  Ben ran to the front doors, and was relieved to find them still open.  The gym, however, was locked.  He pounded on the doors until the custodian opened up.  "Did you see my gray t-shirt?"  Ben was hopeful.  Nope.  No one had noticed anything.  Ben dashed in and searched.  Success!  He ran back to the car with his triumphant gray banner flying overhead.  (Or maybe I'm taking creative license, but it would look good in a movie, wouldn't it?)

They came back home in a jolly mood, looking at festively decorated houses and listening to Angel's new song, "Christmas lights, Christmas lights, Christmas lights, Christmas lights.  Christmas lights, Christmas lights, Christmas lights, Christmas lights, I wish we had some on our house because I think they are so pretty.  Christmas lights, Christmas lights."  At the end of the song, Freddie and Georgie shout, "Yay!" and clap their hands enthusiastically.  They also do this at church.

Trent pulled into the driveway, and Ben thanked him profusely.  Ben grabbed his treasured shirt, only to have the ultimate panic, "This.  Is not my shirt!"  His eyes were wild and Trent said he could hear Ben's heart screaming.  After three seconds of eternity, Trent said, "You're right.  That's the sweatshirt I left in the van.  Yours is over there."

Peace was restored.  Ben is funny.  The twins had a lovely drive with Daddy.  Trent is a good man for taking care of the kids when they panic.  And Angel may get some Christmas lights on our house.  I love this family!

The end.

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