Maybe brains, but certainly not brawn

Lately we've been spending our evenings playing racquetball at the neighborhood courts. I'm using the term "playing" loosely here. Because I'm not quite sure if we fall into the "players" category yet. I'm more inclined to stick us somewhere in the "slightly better than your drunk cousin Junior whose missing a shoe and is also blind" category.

Yes, we are THAT GOOD.

Okay, so our family has NEVER been known for any remarkable athletic talent. As kids, my brother and I dabbled in most sports. There were Saturday morning soccer/baseball/softball/football games. Swimming competitions and karate tournaments. We were always involved in some type of athletic endeavor, often lasting only one season before moving on to the next one. My parents made us commit to finishing out the season, but never pushed us one way or another. They were the athletic equivalent of Switzerland.

So it's not totally shocking to learn that I have absolutely no coordination or athletic savvy. And apparently neither does my mom.

And now I know who to blame.

Brae sits behind us, slightly off the court, and retrieves our balls whenever they go out of bounds or over the wall. He's up-down-up-down-up-down every 5 seconds and laughing at us the entire time. He's favorite is when we hit the balls over the wall into another court that is occupied and the ball is magically returned over the wall.

"It's the spirits," I tell him. "So you better watch it, or they'll send you flying over that wall too."

Yesterday we were playing our normal sucky game when we had a few good hits and returns. For a solid minute we were able to keep the ball in play. Brae was jumping up and down, antsy that he wasn't needed, and shouted out, "Go mamma, it's your birthday, shake your booty, like Sha nay nay."

I turned to look at him and started laughing. He was dancing behind us, certainly shaking his booty like Sha nay nay.

"Go!" He commanded, "shake it!"

So we shook it. Right there on the racquetball court.

We suck at racquetball. Granted, we've only been at it a few weeks, but I can't see us improving much beyond where we're at now. We're not going to be good at it and we don't have the dedication to work at becoming good. By the time we start to improve, we'll have lost the interest in it, moving on to something different.

But we can laugh while playing. And we can entertain a 4-year-old who loves nothing more than to have a good time.

Later that night, as I was tucking him into bed, Brae asked, "Momma, whats a Shay nay nay?"

And it occurred to me.

I have no fucking clue.

(and I can't find it/her/him/them on Google either)

But I bet he/she/they sucked at racquetball as well. Or at least this is what I will tell myself.