Boys Will Be Boys

Madeline and Jack take tennis lessons. Jack also plays on a baseball team. As luck would have it, both the kids' tennis lesson and Jack's baseball practice fall on Monday afternoons one hour apart at locations that are roughly 10 minutes apart.

So, we go to tennis, and then after the lesson is over, we race to get to baseball practice. And we generally arrive at baseball practice late, which bothers me, because I don't think it's fair to the coaches and other players, but that's the way it is. For now, I can't do anything about the scheduling conflict.

This afternoon, after tennis, all three kids needed to use the restroom. The boys asked if they could use the men's room. I'm not comfortable with my four- and six-year-old sons spending time alone in public men's rooms, but because we were in a rush, because they were going together, and because of where we were, I caved.

The boys ran happily into the men's room, while Madeline and I went into the women's room.

A few minutes later, Madeline and I exited the women's room. I looked around and didn't see Max or Jack.

Madeline and I waited. A few minutes passed, and there was still no sign of the boys. A few more minutes went by, and I began to wonder.

All sorts of thought crossed my mind. "Did they go outside? I looked. No, they weren't waiting for us outside. Could an adult have taken advantage of them? Could they be in danger? Possibly, but not likely. Does Jack realize what time it is? He needs to get to baseball. He's probably clueless. Did one of them have to poop? Just in case, give them more time. Could it be Jack's diabetes? What if he went low? Would Max recognize a low? Would Max know to run out and get me? It's probably not his diabetes. Be patient."

A few more minutes passed.

"The boys are taking forever," Madeline complained.

I couldn't blame her. She was right. They really were taking forever, and I was growing anxious. 

I dismissed all other thoughts and began to worry solely about diabetes. Whenever something doesn't go according to plans or expectations with Jack, I can't help but think of his condition. Today was no exception.

I looked at my watch again. Time was ticking away, and the boys were still nowhere in sight.

I couldn't take it any more. Enough was enough. If Jack needed help, then I needed to get to him. I was convinced the boys' delay was related to diabetes.

I was on the verge of asking the Pro Shop cashier, a teenage guy, to check on the boys, when Jack and Max finally walked out of the men's room.

"What happened? What took so long?" I asked, feeling both relieved and exasperated.

"When he was washing his hands, Max made a volcano out of soap bubbles," Jack explained. "You should have seen it! It was huge!"

"It was awesome!" Max added with pride.

"Then I decided we'd better stop playing and do the right thing and clean it up," Jack continued. "You always tell us to do the right thing. That's what took us so long."

A soap-bubble volcano! And a sweet boy with a conscience! Of course, I should have known better! Silly me!

I had to laugh.

I also had to remind myself that that not everything revolves around diabetes.