I am still pedaling in France this week and since I am now in Provence, it is a tad warmer and sunnier. As I usually do while traveling, I revisit a Sundays Are For Sebastian, only this time the interaction comes from our older son, Nathan (who is a senior in college now). This comes from almost five years ago when Nathan was sixteen.
While this space is usually used to recount the utterances of our younger son, Sebastian, today the quip is from our older boy. Nathan is closing in rapidly on 17, is 6’4″, a junior in high school, and finds his parents to be extremely un-cool.
As some may already know, I was volunteered (by my wife) to coach the JV Boys Basketball team at our sons’ school. Having coached at a fairly high level in my pre-kid life, I was confident that I could do the job but wary about coaching my son.
After one game (a win, which has been a fairly surprisingly frequent occurrence this season) in which Nathan played particularly well (somewhat rare), I was looking at the scorebook when Nathan peered over my shoulder to get a look at his stat line.
Nathan: “Wow! I had 30 points?”
Me (I had already determined that he had 13): “Nope, look at your jersey. That’s your number, you dope.”
the drunken cyclist 