Tonight we headed out to Carly's basketball game and I mentioned to my sister how it was weird that I didn't have my camera. I didn't think I'd regret it... but I do now.
It was halftime. The Tigerettes performed and it was lovely. There wasn't a lot going on since no one is allowed on the court during halftime. (Remember when all the kids would storm the court and shoot hoops until the teams came back out to warm up?) Well, I was talking to a former girls' bball coach asking him if he missed "those days" and the bottom flap of the bleachers was getting pushed up and down by some kids and I thought to myself, "I sure hope that isn't Marshall, he's gonna get his fingers smashed or something." Then suddenly I heard an enthusiastic cheer from the student section so I looked up to see what was happening when I suddenly realized I had dressed my kid in the same exact clothes I was seeing on that little boy... running across the gym floor... and then sliding on his knees... with a HUGE, proud smile across his face. Umm... yes... that was my boy. Showing off his mad skills to the whole crowd. He would run a ways then slide on his knees as far as he could. Then get up and do it all over again back across the court. The kids kept cheering him on and the band started playing. I'm not sure what their intent was... probably to distract the crowd so the little boy's parents could grab him without all eyes on them. Well, Marshall seemed to think they were playing to give some extra pizazz to his show. He started jogging... or prancing... to the beat of the music and he thought he was COOL. I made it down the steps as quickly as I could pawn off Tyler (yes... I was attending alone, poor Daddy missed the show) and just sat on the front row of the bleachers hoping Marshall would look over at me so I could beckon him off the court. Marshall's Grandma Connie and I just sat there, laughing so hard we were crying, asking each other who we thought Marshall would scream the least at. Soon the team came out of the locker room and started to warm up. I thought that would encourage Marshall to leave the floor so he wouldn't get smashed, but it didn't. I had to go out there and scoop him up... in front of all those spectators... removing all doubt who he belonged to.
And so we return to the title of this post. Regretfully... there are no pictures to accompany this hillarious story. What brings me satisfaction, however, is that at least Marshall didn't do something as obnoxious as pulling the fire alarm... like he did with Daddy last year at one of Carly's basketball games.