a sure fire way to kill free time ('kill' operative word here)

On Tuesday, Mini was invited to play on the JV1 team for the remainder of the season when her JV2 season wrapped up. 

She was all excited.  I asked the obvious:  'What does this mean?'  She said it meant she would play on Thursday.  Initially she thought her match was away near my brother's houseWednesday, I picked her up after her JV 1 practice.  'So where do you play tomorrow?'
.  On

She did not know, but she jumped out of the car to go ask.  I have been BEGGING her to pay a bit more attention ever since I mistakenly drove to Jesus Sandals Central HS. 

I was excited when she learned that she was playing at home.  Easy.  Thursday, I requested that any parent who couldn't pick their kids up from me by 4 pm meet me at the high school tennis courts.  That trick worked, and I was at her match on time.

We drove home at the same time after the team chatted with the coach- no return trip to wait for an away match bus.  I was super excited to have the rest of my night chauffeur-free.  With Curly at outdoor education with her 5th grade class for a few days, I did NOT need to drive to Irish dancing class.

I realized when we were half way home that Tank had been floating around the high school grounds hanging out with friends after serving his detention for too many tardies.  (Riddle me this:  how is Tank late for school religiously, when the other two siblings who drive in the same car with him have far less tardy instances?)  Now I feared pulling into the driveway only to get a text from him:  'Come get me.'

I guess lugging this monster team-issued tennis
 equipment bag around threw her off.  This
 thing can hold two racquets (Mini got
one used racquet just after the
season started) and SO MUCH MORE!

Oh, but that ISN'T what happened.  Instead we walked in the house and Mini moaned.  She left her backpack on the bleachers by the tennis courts. 

I hesitated to race back to get the backpack.  I wanted to hear back from Tank first so I knew if I needed to get him and where.  I also was toying with the idea of getting some ingredients at the store to make some gluten free snacks that I had researched online.  I fumbled around for a few minutes with the recipes and sent Tank a few unanswered text messages.  Then we left for our forgotten backpack quest.

We pulled up to the bleachers and there was NO backpack there.  Another girl from tennis was still in the parking lot.  Parking lot girl told Mini that Tennis Coach (TC) put it in the storage shed.  I told Mini to call TC.  She swears that she had already pointed this out to me, but I did not realize that her phone was in her backpack.  I used my phone to call Mini's BFF and get TC's number.  Meanwhile Mini hopped out at my direction to seek out someone who could unlock the storage locker.

TC told me he had the backpack with him.  He had just arrived at the tennis facility where he works.  NOT DOWN THE STREET.  I saw Mini cross the parking lot with a guy from the athletic department spinning a big ring of keys on his finger.  I rolled down my window and informed her the backpack wasn't in there after all.  That would have been way too easy. 

We drove to TC's work.  Got the backpack.  Sat in traffic.  All the while my Irish temper was exploding and my 'free night' was slipping away from me as our mission took up about an hour and a half. 

I did not stop at the store to get ingredients.  I did not hear from Tank until he showed up at the house.  I did not handle myself with poise and positive vibes. 

Mini and I both recovered.  Eventually.  Maybe misplacing bags is a family trait?