Ain’t That a Kick In The Head

We signed the boy up for soccer because this is apparently a thing parents do to their children. Honestly, I don't understand why soccer. I mean, I think football is really stupid, too, but at least people play football in Oklahoma. Anyway, we signed him up, he was excited, the Senior Partner was excited, and I was tentatively excited since the last time we tried soccer was basically an anger management exercise for me as the boy jackassed around the field not really listening to anybody

A week or so ago, the Senior Partner got an email from the guy that would be Elijah's coach. Practice would be at Hudson Elementary School on the evening of August 27. We started prepping the boy for fun a week in advance. The fateful evening arrived today and, at 6, the boy and his mother headed out.

At about 6:40, I got a call requesting I Google up an address for another school.

"What happened?" I asked as I typed.

"I don't know, they had to move practice or something. The guy's phone was breaking up pretty bad. You find the new place yet?"

I had and I gave her directions to Ridgecrest Elementary. She told me she saw the school and they proceeded to go practice. Or so I thought. About 6:50, I get another call.

"Screw this, we're coming home."

"What's the problem this time?" I ask gingerly. The SP did not sound happy and I could hear vague whining from the backseat over the phone.

"I can't find the guy and it doesn't even look like there are any kids practicing soccer at this field tonight."

"Do you think he told you the wrong school?"

"No, I distinctly heard him say Ridgecrest. I'll email him when I get home."

And so she did. I bathed the boy while she emailed the coach. We read some The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, and then turned the lights out. By the time we'd extricated ourselves from the bedroom, SP's phone was ringing.

"Ugh. It's the coach. Here," she said, handing me the phone, "I don't have the energy to talk to any more people today."

I took the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, this is Brian, the soccer coach."

"Hey Brian. This is Josh, I think you've been talking to my wife. We must have had a mix up tonight."

"Yeah, let me check my notes. You're name is Unruh, is that right?"

"Yep."

"And your son's name is Kade?"

"Ummm, no. It's Elijah."

"Kade?"

"No, Elijah."

Pause. "Where do you guys live?" I gave him a rough idea with highways and street names. "And you signed up through Hudson?"

"No, we signed up through the city."

"That's weird because I'm only responsible for Hudson kids. You know, Hudson an hour north of Wichita?" Pause. "Wait a minute..." Pause. "I think I got an email address wrong here..."

You guessed it. We had been contacted by a soccer coach a mere week after signing up for soccer and being told we'd be contacted via email by our coaches. The coach had gone on to name not one but TWO different elementary schools that are near enough to us to be schools where practice would be held. Except the schools he was talking about are about four hours north of us.

He and I had a good laugh, apologized, and hung up. I turned to explain this to the Senior Partner while she looked at me with wide eye. She then burst into uncontrollable laughter, actually doubling over in our kitchen. And I knew exactly why.

Because this kind of crap happens to us all the time.

Well, noot exactly this crap, but definitely the kind of weird coincidences that would have a coach of the right sport contact us at the right time and rattle off two nearby elementary schools for practices while thinking he's talking to parents of a child who live four hours up an interstate from us.

I can't wait to see what kind of bizarre scheduling cock ups happen when the boy gets old enough to sign up for his own activities. At this rate, he may be the first soccer player on Mars even though he signed up for field hockey down the street.