Last week the weather was equally unpleasant for soccer. I was lucky enough to get a parking place directly in front of Wyatt's field, and Gunnar asked if he could sit in the van. Since I could see it plainly from the sidelines I agreed. But he's only eight, and hadn't brought anything to do, and I felt guilty about him sitting there alone.
Near the end of the first half I saw him walking toward me.
Mom? Would you walk down to the bathroom with me? I tried to rest, but I've got that tinkly feeling.
Gunnar, are you bored? Would you rather come be with me? I can bundle you up.
That's okay, Mom. I can occupy myself with happy thoughts.