Soccer Moms

I am compelled, for reasons of my own, to discuss the concept of the soccer mom. But it isn't just soccer. In fact, it is not just the moms. It is the parent. I think we can go ahead and hang a more appropriate banner. How about "Psycho Parent Fan" (PPF). There are many PPF's around us and they need to be exposed.

I remember when my daughter, a dancer back in her days with Krepinski Academy, decided she would try out for the Muny. Most of the kids at the academy did this each year and the boys even had a pretty good shot at it, for two reasons. Mark Krepinski was one of the main dudes for the Muny, so's his dancers have had a leg up, so thought the conniving PPF's. Yep, twas what the PPF's thought; they paid their fees appropriately for a little better chance to be under the lights. The other thing is that there were only a handful of boys who would try out. Most were playing soccer, football, baseball. Few were dancers. It was not unusual to see 700 girls and maybe 25 boys. Thrasher, you and I should have been dancers. You can do point.

Yes, we got caught up in all that hoopla, thinking that we had the one, my wife and I, the pay dirt to theater wonderment, the golden child, the college scholarship, the home in Brentwood, the bragging rights to all this gooey stuff. There was much to do, pick a song, a dance and a routine of some sort. The big day was on a Saturday, at SLUH, amongst the finest PPF's in the region. This was my first exposure, and it would be my last. We walked in to the place and realized that the competition was fierce. We would need to get to work, ASAP.

So you see, it wasn't the kids that would have to get to work, it was the PPF's. Every mother had a bag and in the bags were an assortment of bottles, combs, irons-flattening, curling. Sprinkler's-high sparkle, duelers- dingles, dangles, bonitos, boopies....NO! The competition wasn't on the stage at all. It was with the PPF's readying their kid for their 2 minutes of failure. I vomited on a Lincoln Navigator with a Visitation sticker on the way out.

I am not taking a stab at the dance thing, or the Muny, or the the institution of dance-not my point. It's more about the competitive nature of parents living their lives through their kids activities. We need to expose those over zealous types whenever possible. That is why I always carry a bucket of water balloons in the car. If I am at an event and see such activity, they get it.

I am being told to come up stairs now to get my face painted for Natalie's tennis match. We are bringing food for the team and the Winnebago needs gas.