Homecoming

"So, Mommy? What do the Bluebirds get if they win the football game?"

"....Um...???"

"Like, do they win a prize?"

"... no..."

"Well, if they don't win a prize, maybe each team could take turns getting goalies-"

"touchdowns"

"touchdowns, and then they could both tie at the game? And, kind of both... win?"

And with THAT dinner conversation, David and I loaded up our children and took them to the high school football game. Because JEEZUS, they should at least know the basics of football. Because it was homecoming. To see the band, of course.

And while no one in our family follows any kind of professional sports- I KNOW, how much did I luck out in that aspect of the Marriage Lottery!- I did feel a little sheepish that my 7 year olds didn't understand the fundamentals of a competitive game.

The football game itself was totally nutso. Teens and elderly and food and music and packs of big kids and packs of little kids and people we know and HELLO'S! and blankets and hot chocolate and bright lights and announcers and face painting; everyone a frothing mass of school colors; a sea of blue and gold.

Kate and Joan were immediately swallowed up into the madness- greeted and hugged and carried away in a stream of people- looking so tiny and so grown up all at once and beaming all the while. David and I bit the inside of our cheeks and let them go. Every third face was a teacher or staff person in the school district, and every second face was someone else we knew, and this IS Tiny Town after all, where children CAN safely run free at a football game. At least, that's what we told ourselves, as we craned our necks trying to spot them.

Marin ate starburst candy and wanted to know "what's dat brown sing they are kicking" (ah, that's called a football, honey) and asked "why do they keep just running all around?" (excellent question, sweetie) and cheered for the band and warmed her hands in her pants pockets even though she was wearing her winter coat, which had a better hands-warming option.

And then as we were leaving, I caught up to the twins' posse, and I overheard my girls explaining the stars and constellations and which planets you can see in the sky when to their friends. And I thought these girls know things- not football- but different things. And that was a good feeling.

We came home with a pep in our step and had hot chocolate and washed the Bluebird spray out of Joan's hair and put the kids to bed. We always mean to go to more high school football games, and now I remember why.

To see the band, of course. But lots of other reasons too.