It is winter, and basketball season is in full bloom. Ashlie prefers baseball, but I am definitely more partial to the hardwood court. Michael, Jacob, and Allison each play on a different team, and they've won more games than they have lost...which is certainly preferable to the other option. Each of the three is one of the best defensive players on their team. I'm really not sure why, as their father's version of defense is generally to wave hello to the offensive player as he blows by me for an easy score. Perhaps it has something to do with meal-time, and the skills they have honed keeping each other from grabbing that last tansy chicken nugget or piece of apple pie. Whatever the reason, it works well.
Michael is the point guard for his team, and surprisingly has learned how to pass quite well at an early age. Once again, he didn't get that from me. I haven't yet learned how to make a pass at his mother that accomplishes anything...
