Spoiler alert: If you're under nine-years-old, stop reading now. In fact, just to be on the safe side, let's make it 10.
Now that we've established that you're old enough to read this, I can state the cold, hard truth: The Easter Bunny Doesn't Exist.
He especially doesn't exist here in the Gulf, where Easter Sunday is just a regular work day. Happily, Dan took a holiday day, and the kids had a day off school. In Doha, in keeping with all its glorious weirdness and contradictions, there are a million choices for purchasing chocolate Easter eggs, baskets, and quacking ducks, so there was no problem getting prepared for Easter morning. Buy the stuff, but keep your Eastery-Easterness out of my face, is the message I get.
I have to admit that we did have the weirdest Easter to date: church on a regular business day, bike shopping at the souqs, lunch at a Lebanese restaurant - even hung out at the pool with the kids while the turkey was in the oven.
But getting back to the EB: I've been lying about him for going on 13 years. Not just lying, but completely making stuff up. I've had an explanation for every seed of doubt, every chocolate purchase receipt that's been left out, and every chocolate egg I've been able to find that has escaped the kids' sight. Sure, Nick and Ben are a little old for that stuff, but they have been silent accomplices to my fabrications. They've been operating under the motto of "You've gotta believe to receive". My objective has always been to keep Jacob a believer well into his thirties.
This is not the first time we've spent Easter away from "home" in a warm location. Last year, we went to Disneyland over the break with my parents, and rented a house in Anaheim. We arrived late on the Saturday before Easter, so I planned ahead and brought things to fill the kids' baskets (as did Grandma, as it turns out), and chocolate eggs to hide. In each of their baskets they received, among other things, a coupon booklet for five free Slurpees from 7-Eleven.
Fast-forward to July 2010. It was finally warm enough to even consider getting a Slurpee, so the kids and I piled into the van and headed out to Sev. I parked in front of the store and the three of them went in with their coupons. A few minutes later they came out with their drinks, and as they were getting back in the van I asked Jacob if he had any problem using his coupon. He said no, in fact the man behind the counter commented that they were great coupons, and he would really like to find out where to get one.
"I wonder why he would ask you that," I said. "This is the location I bought them at."
What did she just say?
A time-warp had descended over our van. Everyone stopped moving for a few seconds - Jacob in mid-sit, Nick in mid-buckle, and Ben in mid-door-closing. As for me, I was frantically trying to figure out a way to pull the thread of my comment back into my mouth.
Then Jacob asked, with a look of incredulity, "You're the Easter Bunny???"
Busted. After more than a decade of constructing the myth, of providing perpetual fairy tales for every question of suspicion, blithely deflecting my kids' misgivings with made-up, on-the-spot answers, I had blown it. Not only that, but I had single-handedly set the charges and pressed the button for its implosion. There was no way to unspeak the two fateful sentences that would fell this house of cards and bring to an end this chapter in my children's lives.
We haven't spoken about it since, so I was a little worried about how to handle it this year. One night last week at dinner I said to the kids, "So, about Easter this year..."
They all looked at me and smiled. And then Ben leaned over and whispered, "Just hide the eggs anyway, Mom."
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Parenting Under the Influence
Thursday is the beginning of the weekend here, and is the New Friday for us Western expats. As I've become fond of saying, "TAIT!"
With Nick approaching teenage-hood (teenage-dom?), he’s pretty eager to get out there with his friends sans chaperone. So, the few times that he’s asked to go with his friends to the mall, we thought we’d let out a few notches on his leash and give him a bit of freedom. Last Thursday night, he made arrangements to go to the mall right after school to have dinner, see a movie, and maybe go to the amusement park. After we confirmed with two other moms that driving arrangements were in place, Dan and I were off the hook to let loose like the crazy party-animals we’re known for…which meant staying in and watching a movie with Ben and Jacob.
Just to set the stage, the mall that Nick was at is not in our neighbourhood; in fact, it is clear across the city, the same mall that the kids play hockey at. In the back of my mind, there was that niggling, paranoid parent voice saying, “It’s a little far…what if something happened?”
Anyway, it being Thursday and all, Dan and I started in on the cocktails when he got home from work. Nothing major: a glass of wine when he got home, and beer with dinner. With the blood alcohol limit for driving being 0.0%, this pretty much sealed the deal as far as staying home for the evening went. I made chicken wings and the four us settled in to watch “Get Smart”. That’s when our phone rang.
No one ever calls on our home phone.
“Hi, this is Nick’s friend. Nick fell on the escalator and cut his leg really badly. We think he needs stitches. Can you come and get him?”
Damn. I spoke to Nick and he was calm, and not lying in a pool of his own blood at the bottom of the escalator as I'd envisioned. Now Dan and I had to settle two burning questions: which one of us will go, and how will he get there? Dan Rock-Paper-Scissored his way out of staying home, and I set about trying to get a taxi. This is no small feat on a Thursday evening. Finally, we tracked down a driver that I had used previously, and he managed to get Dan there, but it took just over an hour.
Meanwhile, Nick’s fantastic group of friends had already sprung into action. As soon as he got hurt, they tried to find a security guard to help them. Failing to locate one, they took matters into their own hands. The kids went to the food court and got some napkins to stem the bleeding, while two of them ran down to the pharmacy and got alcohol, gauze and medical tape. The Boy Scout in the group bandaged up Nick’s leg. Had I not intervened to tell them that Dan was on his way, they were prepared to CARRY him over to the sports hospital next door!
After Dan picked Nick up, he brought him to a hospital in a different part of the city and kept his driver on retainer for the return trip home. Two inches of stitches to a cut near his ankle, bandages to his banged up knee, and a tetanus shot later, Nick hobbled in at about 11:00 pm.
I'm sure there's a lesson in all of this, but I'm having a hard time pinning down just one. Bubble wrap your kids until they're 40? Don't run up escalators unless you're bubble-wrapped? Or, while we're living here at least, make sure one parent remains stone-cold sober at all times? Maybe a combination of these. But it's Thursday today...I'll have to think about it over a cold beer.
I'm sure there's a lesson in all of this, but I'm having a hard time pinning down just one. Bubble wrap your kids until they're 40? Don't run up escalators unless you're bubble-wrapped? Or, while we're living here at least, make sure one parent remains stone-cold sober at all times? Maybe a combination of these. But it's Thursday today...I'll have to think about it over a cold beer.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
La Dolce Vita
Ahhh, spring break in Italy! Check out the pictures on the slideshow to the right. Here are the highlights:
Are We There Yet?
From Doha to Rome, the only direct flight (and the only one that didn't have us making a stop-over in Riyadh or Damascus) departed at 1:50 am. We steeled ourselves for a lethal combination of over-tired kids and cranky parents, but were pleasantly surprised at how well everyone did after six hours on the plane and not much sleep. Once we landed in Rome, we had the whole day ahead of us!
Our Homa in Roma
We rented a fabulous flat right at the Pantheon. The recently renovated apartment was the top floor of a palace belonging to a Cardinal in the 16th century. It had exposed beams, a loft, a hammock, a swing, bunk beds, and a dark red bathroom (!). My favourite feature was the view of the Pantheon, which was about 100 metres away. We could sit with the shutters open in the evening and listen to the musical entertainment in the piazza. By some weird twist of fate, it was here that both Nick and Ben discovered that the Italian Tooth Fairy does exist, and pays out in Euros and/or Pringles potato chips.
Pay Attention, Boys, There'll Be a Quiz Later
We walked everywhere in Rome, and spent our first full day exploring the narrow streets and discovering little shops and restaurants. Dan found a beautiful park, Villa Borghese, where we had cappuccino at an outdoor cafe, and rented a big five-person bike for us all to ride.
The next three days were spent touring with our wonderful guide, Cinzia. We visited Ancient Rome, which included the Forum and the Colosseum; we toured Centro Storico, which was the area surrounding our flat, and included the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps, Piazza Navona and the Trevi Fountain. Finally, we had a tour of the Vatican. The kids admitted they were a bit surprised by the Sistine Chapel, saying they thought it would be bigger! Evidently, they are true Lemoings, and not easily impressed.
There are 400 churches in Rome and Dan seemed intent on visiting every one of them. After awhile, the boys balked and set their own PDCL (Personal Daily Church Limit) to two. Happily, we were able to bribe them into a couple more with the promise of gelato and a game of Angry Birds.
Salami is the New Bacon
If you don't like Italian food, you might want to skip this section. You might also want to ask yourself, what the heck is wrong with me?
Interestingly, with all the people walking around Rome, we didn't once see anyone sipping coffee out of a cardboard cup or travel mug. This is because it's just simply not done. When you order a coffee, you sit down and drink it, out of a real cup, and enjoy it. People of Rome, I like the way you think.
We ate breakfast every morning at the apartment, with bread, salami, cheese, fruit and yogurt purchased from the neighbourhood grocery store. We had our other meals out, at whichever restaurant in the area caught our eye (or our nose). I don't want to bore you with the details, so here's a summary:
Bruschetta, pizza, gnocchi, risotto, ravioli, lasagna, salami, spaghetti, prosciutto, porchetta, linguine, pesto, olives, artichokes, gelato, cappuccino, tortellini, canneloni. 'Nuff said.
Wine, wine, wine, it's all I ever do...
Shocking, yet true: we had wine with every meal except breakfast. Unless you count the glass of Prosecco I had in the morning at our hotel in Sorrento. It was just sitting there on the drink table at the breakfast buffet. What's a girl to do?
Fasten Yer Seat Belts
After five glorious days in Rome, we rented a car and drove to Pompei. Our guide, Lucia, showed us around these very cool ruins in an afternoon. From there, we took the winding road to Sorrento, where we stayed overnight at a beautiful hotel right on the Mediterranean.
We made our return trip back to Rome the next day via the Amalfi Coast, along the Sorrentine Peninsula. I think "Amalfi" must be the Italian word for "breathtakingly beautiful". If you look at the pictures, you'll see that the houses are all built up the side of the cliffs, and the roads are extremely twisty. Dan was at the wheel, while I provided what I thought was a critical yet helpful assessment of his driving. His sage advice to future travellers: get the extra insurance on the car rental - it'll pay off!
Arrivederci Roma (did you seriously expect me close with any other line?)
Sadly, our trip had to come to an end, but I could have stayed forever. Although I kept telling the kids that I was really going to miss them when they went back to Doha, they managed to wrangle me onto the plane and strap me into my seatbelt, despite my protests. I hope the coins we threw in the Trevi Fountain ensure our return back some day soon!
Are We There Yet?
From Doha to Rome, the only direct flight (and the only one that didn't have us making a stop-over in Riyadh or Damascus) departed at 1:50 am. We steeled ourselves for a lethal combination of over-tired kids and cranky parents, but were pleasantly surprised at how well everyone did after six hours on the plane and not much sleep. Once we landed in Rome, we had the whole day ahead of us!
Our Homa in Roma
We rented a fabulous flat right at the Pantheon. The recently renovated apartment was the top floor of a palace belonging to a Cardinal in the 16th century. It had exposed beams, a loft, a hammock, a swing, bunk beds, and a dark red bathroom (!). My favourite feature was the view of the Pantheon, which was about 100 metres away. We could sit with the shutters open in the evening and listen to the musical entertainment in the piazza. By some weird twist of fate, it was here that both Nick and Ben discovered that the Italian Tooth Fairy does exist, and pays out in Euros and/or Pringles potato chips.
Pay Attention, Boys, There'll Be a Quiz Later
We walked everywhere in Rome, and spent our first full day exploring the narrow streets and discovering little shops and restaurants. Dan found a beautiful park, Villa Borghese, where we had cappuccino at an outdoor cafe, and rented a big five-person bike for us all to ride.
The next three days were spent touring with our wonderful guide, Cinzia. We visited Ancient Rome, which included the Forum and the Colosseum; we toured Centro Storico, which was the area surrounding our flat, and included the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps, Piazza Navona and the Trevi Fountain. Finally, we had a tour of the Vatican. The kids admitted they were a bit surprised by the Sistine Chapel, saying they thought it would be bigger! Evidently, they are true Lemoings, and not easily impressed.
There are 400 churches in Rome and Dan seemed intent on visiting every one of them. After awhile, the boys balked and set their own PDCL (Personal Daily Church Limit) to two. Happily, we were able to bribe them into a couple more with the promise of gelato and a game of Angry Birds.
Salami is the New Bacon
If you don't like Italian food, you might want to skip this section. You might also want to ask yourself, what the heck is wrong with me?
Interestingly, with all the people walking around Rome, we didn't once see anyone sipping coffee out of a cardboard cup or travel mug. This is because it's just simply not done. When you order a coffee, you sit down and drink it, out of a real cup, and enjoy it. People of Rome, I like the way you think.
We ate breakfast every morning at the apartment, with bread, salami, cheese, fruit and yogurt purchased from the neighbourhood grocery store. We had our other meals out, at whichever restaurant in the area caught our eye (or our nose). I don't want to bore you with the details, so here's a summary:
Bruschetta, pizza, gnocchi, risotto, ravioli, lasagna, salami, spaghetti, prosciutto, porchetta, linguine, pesto, olives, artichokes, gelato, cappuccino, tortellini, canneloni. 'Nuff said.
Wine, wine, wine, it's all I ever do...
Shocking, yet true: we had wine with every meal except breakfast. Unless you count the glass of Prosecco I had in the morning at our hotel in Sorrento. It was just sitting there on the drink table at the breakfast buffet. What's a girl to do?
Fasten Yer Seat Belts
After five glorious days in Rome, we rented a car and drove to Pompei. Our guide, Lucia, showed us around these very cool ruins in an afternoon. From there, we took the winding road to Sorrento, where we stayed overnight at a beautiful hotel right on the Mediterranean.
We made our return trip back to Rome the next day via the Amalfi Coast, along the Sorrentine Peninsula. I think "Amalfi" must be the Italian word for "breathtakingly beautiful". If you look at the pictures, you'll see that the houses are all built up the side of the cliffs, and the roads are extremely twisty. Dan was at the wheel, while I provided what I thought was a critical yet helpful assessment of his driving. His sage advice to future travellers: get the extra insurance on the car rental - it'll pay off!
Arrivederci Roma (did you seriously expect me close with any other line?)
Sadly, our trip had to come to an end, but I could have stayed forever. Although I kept telling the kids that I was really going to miss them when they went back to Doha, they managed to wrangle me onto the plane and strap me into my seatbelt, despite my protests. I hope the coins we threw in the Trevi Fountain ensure our return back some day soon!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Road Warrior
Things have been going quite smoothly lately, and frankly I've been feeling a bit too comfortable. So I decided to embark on a new Doha challenge: Vehicle Registration.
While many of you are holding vigil at the bedside of Old Man Winter, hanging on his dying coughs, and wishing you could trade places (for weather-related reasons) with us, I would encourage you to dig deep and really try to appreciate how good you have it in the simple and non-chaotic Western world.
Case in point: You know every year when you're happily cruising along the highway of life, busy with school projects, the flu, Pilates class, Q2 reporting, piano exams and birthday parties, and then suddenly, out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever, you get a REMINDER IN THE MAIL THAT YOUR CAR REGISTRATION NEEDS TO BE RENEWED? And then, to make matters worse, you've only got about TWO MONTHS to procrastinate and/or keep forgetting to go the registry office which is right by your house, so then you have to resort to renewing online the day before it's due? Well, let me tell you, it's exactly like that here: Once a year, you have to renew your registration. Except without the reminder in the mail. Or the ability to renew online. Or getting the whole process done without driving to another planet.
About a month ago Dan said, "I'll take care of it...but don't let me forget that your car's registration is up on March 13." So on March 16 (ahem) I enlisted the help of my friend Lynn, who also needed to go, and we took our cars together.
The process is simple if your vehicle is less than three years old. My MRV, however, is not. All cars over three years old need to be inspected before the registration can be renewed. There is one place where inspections are done, and it's in what is affectionately and accurately referred to as The Industrial Area. This aptly named area in the far southwest part of Doha is best described as the movie set from Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior, only with more buildings and nicer cars. Picture the right lane of the roads filled with bumper-to-bumper big trucks, and the left lane filled with the rest of us. Potholes abound. Construction persists. Congruously, on a map, this part of the city is depicted in complete grey. Its saving grace from a travelling perspective is that it's on a grid, so in theory things are easy to find. To make our trip even more authentic, we made sure we went on a day when the wind was howling at 50 km/h, so that sand was blowing across the road in blizzard-like fashion.
By some miracle and great navigation by Lynn, we made it to our location. I was quite happy that my car passed the Technical inspection, but a little freaked-out that it failed the Legal. Upon receiving this news, I went to the information desk where a friendly Qatari man with impeccable English (who apparently studied in Minnesota and called me "young lady" - I now have a new best friend) told me that this was no problem at all. My vehicle had previously been registered as a five-passenger, while it actually seats eight. Mr. Minnesota wrote something in Arabic on a sticky note and directed me to take my car next door for registration and insurance.
The deed is done, and now I can rest easy for another year. I could always hire a "runner" to take my car for registration next year, but why deprive myself of another road adventure and an opportunity to take better photos of The Industrial Area? Stay tuned for the results of next year's decision.
While many of you are holding vigil at the bedside of Old Man Winter, hanging on his dying coughs, and wishing you could trade places (for weather-related reasons) with us, I would encourage you to dig deep and really try to appreciate how good you have it in the simple and non-chaotic Western world.
Case in point: You know every year when you're happily cruising along the highway of life, busy with school projects, the flu, Pilates class, Q2 reporting, piano exams and birthday parties, and then suddenly, out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever, you get a REMINDER IN THE MAIL THAT YOUR CAR REGISTRATION NEEDS TO BE RENEWED? And then, to make matters worse, you've only got about TWO MONTHS to procrastinate and/or keep forgetting to go the registry office which is right by your house, so then you have to resort to renewing online the day before it's due? Well, let me tell you, it's exactly like that here: Once a year, you have to renew your registration. Except without the reminder in the mail. Or the ability to renew online. Or getting the whole process done without driving to another planet.
About a month ago Dan said, "I'll take care of it...but don't let me forget that your car's registration is up on March 13." So on March 16 (ahem) I enlisted the help of my friend Lynn, who also needed to go, and we took our cars together.
The process is simple if your vehicle is less than three years old. My MRV, however, is not. All cars over three years old need to be inspected before the registration can be renewed. There is one place where inspections are done, and it's in what is affectionately and accurately referred to as The Industrial Area. This aptly named area in the far southwest part of Doha is best described as the movie set from Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior, only with more buildings and nicer cars. Picture the right lane of the roads filled with bumper-to-bumper big trucks, and the left lane filled with the rest of us. Potholes abound. Construction persists. Congruously, on a map, this part of the city is depicted in complete grey. Its saving grace from a travelling perspective is that it's on a grid, so in theory things are easy to find. To make our trip even more authentic, we made sure we went on a day when the wind was howling at 50 km/h, so that sand was blowing across the road in blizzard-like fashion.
By some miracle and great navigation by Lynn, we made it to our location. I was quite happy that my car passed the Technical inspection, but a little freaked-out that it failed the Legal. Upon receiving this news, I went to the information desk where a friendly Qatari man with impeccable English (who apparently studied in Minnesota and called me "young lady" - I now have a new best friend) told me that this was no problem at all. My vehicle had previously been registered as a five-passenger, while it actually seats eight. Mr. Minnesota wrote something in Arabic on a sticky note and directed me to take my car next door for registration and insurance.
The deed is done, and now I can rest easy for another year. I could always hire a "runner" to take my car for registration next year, but why deprive myself of another road adventure and an opportunity to take better photos of The Industrial Area? Stay tuned for the results of next year's decision.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Warriors Reunite
For the past several years, the sport of hockey has dominated our household. With Dan playing on two recreational teams in Calgary, and the three boys in minor hockey, it seemed inevitable that any kind of international move would seriously cramp our style. But, with all the criteria that I put forth to my husband on condition of a move, hockey was one on which he was unexpectedly able to deliver.
Doha has a small but well-run minor hockey program. In each age division there are two reasonably evenly-matched teams that play each other. When we learned that Dubai was hosting a U9 tournament, we quickly booked our flights, knowing that it would give Jacob an opportunity to play against a different group of kids. However, there weren't enough families interested in travel for this particular age group, so we decided to go ahead and have Jacob play with one of the other participating teams.
The real driver behind our desire to go to Dubai was to visit with the family of one of Jacob's former classmates and fellow Westwood Warrior. We were excited at the prospect of having Sam and Jacob play against each other in either of our current locations. But when the numbers shook out, and all the extra kids were placed on teams, Jacob played for Al Ain (one of the Emirates in the UAE), and Sam graciously decided to forego playing with his own Dubai team to join Jacob.
The tournament was held at Al Nasr arena, which is disturbingly similar to West Hillhurst Arena in Calgary. It was actually a little surreal to sit beside Jennifer and Guy and watch our boys on the ice! The boys played great all weekend, with Sam getting a two-point game on his first outing and Jacob playing a solid defensive game. After five games, Al Ain got the third place medal in this five-team tournament, and the boys wore their medals proudly.
All told, it was a great weekend. Despite spending two and a half hours at Passport Control in Dubai getting our visas and eye-scans* (after a mere 45-minute flight), we made it to the restaurant Thursday night in time to join our friends for ribs and beer. Guy and Jennifer hosted us to a wonderful dinner on Friday, and Jacob to a sleepover. Can't wait until it's our turn to host a tournament in Doha!
*Blogger's note: Perhaps I'll write more on the visa issue for Canadians travelling to the UAE another time. Meantime, if you could all contact your local MP and have him/her pass on a message to Minister of Foreign Affairs, Lawrence Cannon, we would really appreciate it! We need him to sooth the bruised egos of Emirati officials who are a little miffed at Canada.
Doha has a small but well-run minor hockey program. In each age division there are two reasonably evenly-matched teams that play each other. When we learned that Dubai was hosting a U9 tournament, we quickly booked our flights, knowing that it would give Jacob an opportunity to play against a different group of kids. However, there weren't enough families interested in travel for this particular age group, so we decided to go ahead and have Jacob play with one of the other participating teams.
The real driver behind our desire to go to Dubai was to visit with the family of one of Jacob's former classmates and fellow Westwood Warrior. We were excited at the prospect of having Sam and Jacob play against each other in either of our current locations. But when the numbers shook out, and all the extra kids were placed on teams, Jacob played for Al Ain (one of the Emirates in the UAE), and Sam graciously decided to forego playing with his own Dubai team to join Jacob.
The tournament was held at Al Nasr arena, which is disturbingly similar to West Hillhurst Arena in Calgary. It was actually a little surreal to sit beside Jennifer and Guy and watch our boys on the ice! The boys played great all weekend, with Sam getting a two-point game on his first outing and Jacob playing a solid defensive game. After five games, Al Ain got the third place medal in this five-team tournament, and the boys wore their medals proudly.
All told, it was a great weekend. Despite spending two and a half hours at Passport Control in Dubai getting our visas and eye-scans* (after a mere 45-minute flight), we made it to the restaurant Thursday night in time to join our friends for ribs and beer. Guy and Jennifer hosted us to a wonderful dinner on Friday, and Jacob to a sleepover. Can't wait until it's our turn to host a tournament in Doha!
*Blogger's note: Perhaps I'll write more on the visa issue for Canadians travelling to the UAE another time. Meantime, if you could all contact your local MP and have him/her pass on a message to Minister of Foreign Affairs, Lawrence Cannon, we would really appreciate it! We need him to sooth the bruised egos of Emirati officials who are a little miffed at Canada.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Born to Run
When Nick was little (back when we knew him as “Nicholas”), he often sought out solitary activities that didn’t involve either of his brothers. Invariably, this led him to the basement where he would spend countless hours throwing a bouncy ball against the fireplace tiles and catching it on return. His hand-eye coordination became remarkable at a young age. So when the opportunity arose this past November for Nick to become a ball-boy for the ATP Qatar ExxonMobil Open tennis tournament, I remarked to Dan, “He’s been training for this his whole life!”
Training began at the beginning of November, with 145 kids attending the first practices. There was an international mix of ball kids, hailing from Qatar, India, Egypt, the U.S., France, and our solitary Canadian. They all worked pretty hard during these somewhat repetitive practices, which lasted about two and a half hours. Over time, Nick learned that the role of a ball-boy was one of service, and that he was to be an invisible, unobtrusive pylon who frequently had to move during a match.
By Jan. 1, participation had trickled down to about 80 kids. All of the kids were given a complete uniform, including shoes. Teams were set, but only the most experienced ball-kids got to work Center Court, the big stadium at the grounds where most spectators watch. Nick and all his other freshman friends were relegated to work games at the smaller courts, which was still pretty exciting. However, on the second-last day of the tournament, he got to work the Doubles Semi-Final, which was played on one of the smaller courts, and featured none other than Rafael Nadal.
Even though I'm sure that mine were the only two eyes on my kid (apparently there was a game going on, or something), it was almost as nerve-wracking as watching your young hockey netminder make his debut between the pipes. And I couldn't help thinking about that Seinfeld episode where Kramer is a tennis ball-man, and crashes into and knocks out Monica Seles. I wonder if Nadal's mom was there, and if she felt the same way?
Thankfully, everything turned out just fine. Nick did his job well and, after eight long ten-hour days at the stadium, came away with some new friendships, a sense of opportunity seized, and some great shots of himself and his new buddy, Rafa.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)