Attitude

We've been on the lacrosse circuit all summer: E, me and E’s attitude.

He and F. gradually found their way back to each other. But within a day, E's insolence found its way back too.

F. and I blame hormones and anxiety over college. The stakes are high: By September of senior year, hopeful lacrosse players have offers from colleges. E. has a few already. Still, not knowing where he will end up feeds his anxiety, which feeds his impudence.

Recently, upon arriving at the campus of a college that is hosting a tournament, I awaken E. for directions to the playing fields. He snoozed contentedly for the entire ride. I have been driving since dawn.

“I dunno,” he says yawning, irritated. “Can’t you just drive around and look for someone to ask?”

I am stunned and irked. His first game is in 45 minutes.

“No,” I respond with forced calm. “I cannot drive around. This is your tournament and it is your responsibility to know where you need to be.”

I park on a side street, turn off the car, and lean back for nap. Half an hour later, E. wakes me up.

“I’m on Field 5,” he chirps. 

I take my place along the sidelines with the other parents, and scout for my son. He is nearly indistinguishable from his teammates in his blue and white jersey and spaceman-looking helmet. But I nail him: taking his sweet time to tighten his gloves, walking with the swagger I know.