The incredible disappearing kid

Parenting is hard. But do you know what’s even harder than parenting your own kids? Watching someone else’s.

Last night I took my 6-year-old daughter and one of her friends to soccer practice. For the purpose of this story, let’s call her friend ‘Lil Wayne.’

Note: I spent far too much time debating whether to call him Lil Wayne or Lil Jon. In the process I discovered there is an entire list of “artists” who use the ‘Lil’ prefix with their name, including a cat. A cat! It’s gripping stuff. Feel free to go read it instead of this post.

Lil Wayne is my child’s favorite partner in crime. He is her muse. Her troublemaking twin. The Butch Cassidy to her Sundance Kid (not sure what that means, just trying to sound cool). Basically when the two of them get together, all hell tends to break loose.

I spent the first 20 minutes of soccer practice trying to cajole the two of them to actually get on the field. They were tackling one another, playing chase, and for one frightful moment I lost sight of Lil Wayne until he reappeared out of nowhere. Apparently he had gone AWOL and climbed the fence. I’m just grateful he came back.

Eventually they calmed down enough to engage in practice, so I took the opportunity to check my email – OK FINE I WAS LOOKING AT INSTAGRAM, SHUSH. When I looked up after no more than a minute or two, Lil Wayne had managed to zip himself inside one of the team’s equipment bags. He was writhing around inside the bag like a tragic Houdini-gone-wrong scene.

Lil Wayne

It took me a few seconds to register what was happening. Why is that bag moving? Is there an animal in there? Wait. WHERE IS LIL WAYNE?!

Once I figured it out, I raced over to unzip him, terrified that he was having a seizure or was about to suffocate. By the time I got there, the other kids had crowded around him and were laughing hysterically. Turns out Lil Wayne was not actually dying, he was pretending to be a zombie. Of course! Because that makes total sense.

I fully understand the awesomeness of zombies, and I can even appreciate the humor of the bag trick – if you are a licensed magician. But moving forward I’m going to request that Lil Wayne save his death-defying stunts for days when his mother drives the carpool instead of me.

10 thoughts on “The incredible disappearing kid

  1. Gee.zus.
    I’m the mom who quits taking lil’ Wayne anywhere after nonsense like that. You’re six, dude. Listen to the coach.

    Also, my kids have fewer and fewer friends lately. Can’t imagine why.

  2. I enjoy reading your friends’ comments almost as much as I do your post 🙂

    I agree with both of the above. Lil Wayne is a Lil Shit and you should rethink carpooling with them. As an aside, my typing is so abysmal today that I typed “carpooping” the first time, although that may be a more accurate term.

  3. Lil’ Wayne. I have all kinds of weird visuals now.

    Soccer is super fun. We love it. Especially when my kids refuse to participate and complain the whole time. Let’s just say I’m not above bribery to get us through this “commitment.”

  4. I bet Lil’ Wayne’s parents were drinking a jug of wine in an effort to de-stress while you took him to soccer practice. I’m starting to wonder if he and Tiny-Small might be related…

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