Sold Me Down The River

A week ago Corey mentioned that he had a bunch of tickets to sell.  "Could we please buy one?"


"Uh... what are they for?"


"The car wash."


"???"


"Oh, I forgot to tell you we're having a car wash for band."


Fast forward to Wednesday.


"Mom, think I might have to stay after school tomorrow.  Or go and come back.  I'm not sure."


"???"


"We have a night practice.  It's from 5:00 to 8:00."


"Dad's game is at the same time.  I'll be able to take you and pick you up this week, but not every week because Mad'll be asleep by then."


Fast forward to today, when I met "Mom" (Band Mom Velda).  She started talking about all the exciting things happening over the next couple of weeks. 

• Like the breakfast at Applebee's tomorrow.
• The 6:00 A.M.to 10:00 A.M. Saturday practices.
• The Friday night games.
• The bracelet fundraiser that's going so well.
• The opportunity drawing for an IPod.

 Hmm.


When Mom saw my completely clueless expression, she handed over her copy of all the festivities and required events.


She and I parted so I could call Tom and ask him to bring more cash stat.


When I was approaching the car washing merriment, Corey was amid a group of teens and adults.  It was then Velda called Corey out.


"Corey, why didn't your mom know about the games and practices and whatnot?"


Did Corey say, "Because I never hand over things until three days after they needed to be turned in."?  No he did not.  He began with:


"Because my dad has baseball on the same night and he really wants me to be there.  And my mom insists... she's like religious about watching the game.  She doesn't even want to watch my sister.  She makes me..."


As I pondered the fact that we attended TWO games last season (during the first one Corey and I traded shifts pulling Mad around in her wagon... during the second, I followed Mad around while Corey wandered away from everybody else so he could text girls until I had him wander behind Mad so I could actually watch the freaking championship game) and the ONE game we've attended so far this season (and by we I mean Mad and me since Corey was at the night practice), I shouted out, "Corey, I can hear you."


Looks like I'm still hung up on the high IQ score that he got in third grade.  Maybe I'm mixing up potential with reality.  Whatever.  The boy is just not as bright as I thought, apparently.


He tried to go on.  Velda, Mr. Sanders and the kids were chuckling at Corey's lame attempts to accept responsibility.  Me?  For me, it's just one more instance in a long line.


Argh!