So there we were the other evening standing in the middle of the street. It had been an overcast day and the kids’ hair was still stringy from a dip in the cold pool. We’d just finished eating hamburgers and hotdogs as part of a Memorial Day family celebration. But now it was time to get serious and stand in the middle of the street.
The players were my two nephews Eric and Reece, my niece Kennedy, my stepdaughter Gabrielle and myself. Eric’s girlfriend Emily was there too, but didn’t want to do it.
“How far?” said Kennedy, the coolest 8-year-old in the world. She squinted into the distance, putting her hand on her forehead.
“To the turn off?” Gabrielle said, placing a hand on one bent knee.
“Looks good to me,” I said.
“Wait, how far again?” Reece asked, the braces on his 12-year-old mouth clunky and gleaming.
“To the turn off, to the green sign,” Gabrielle answered.