A Sign Of Great Things to Come

Here is little Humanling, aged nine. We're at the park, doing little things like swinging, going into nauseating circles on the merry go round and playing freeze tag with other people's Lings.



Well, not me. If you've read my previous posts, you know that I am a horrible, literature laden lazy outdoor parent. I show up with books and figure I will just let the bull out of the pen and she can snort, race around in circles and talk to other creatures her size. Grandma is her size but she doesn't count.



In this photo, HL is metaphorically vulturing, circling overhead with her plan. Humaling decides that the boys with the high school flavor might be nice enough to let her shoot a hoop. She's so cute. It's a normal sized hoop where there are a couple guys taking turns and one of them shows off his b-ball choreography while listening to his i-pod. HL is too shy to ask for herself. So I lead her over and go to Dancehall Jones to introduce her.



"Hi" I say, wondering if I appear to be an old haggard You Boys Stop All This Racket apparition upon sight. "This is (Humanling). She'd like to know if you would let her make a shot and she'll give you your ball back after that."



How can he say no? I'm old and feeble and she's this widdle bitty poof of cuteness.



He hands her the ball. She looks a the big boy hoop and shoots.



And scores.



Hands him his ball back and walks away.



For an moment, me and the boys are connected in a fog of , Uh, What?!