The invention of Bucket Ball could not have come at a better time.
It was the end of a long weekend. The weather was bizarre at best with moments of scorching sun followed, without warning, by treacherous downpours and winds that swept the baby off her scooter from her small mud puddle into a much deeper, muddier one.
We had visited parks and people, attended birthday parties, hosted play dates, bribed the kids with treats (saving the good ones for myself when they were in bed) and shouted obscenities at whoever dared put on a fireworks show with previews sputtering and shaking the house at 10pm.
I was the chauffeur, the snack seeker and the rope turner. I learned a couple of new skipping songs to be chanted to the tune of “are we really teaching our seven year olds this?” The first went something like; “Mexico Texico, something something, how does it go…” I do remember the part about, “leaving town, jump back in, sit on a pin, how many inches does it go in? One, two” etc. But each time I heard them sing about a pin going in, my knees began to buckle and I could feel the colour washing out of my face gearing up for a face plant on the pavement.
The girls came to me while hosting a friend and said, “Mommy, do you want to hear something funny?” Well of course I do. Until now, I’ve been the embarrassing presence covering her face with a scarf to serve bowls of mango and then reverse out of the room bowing, hoping not to make any unrecognizable grunts during my exit.
“Boobies, boobies, she’s got boobies, how many boobies does she have? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven….”
I didn’t want to be the uncool parent who furled my brow at the ridiculous skipping song but I felt the need to point out the obvious. Anyone with more than say five boobies well, that’s simply absurd.
It also seemed odd that the kids thought nothing of shouting for all the passersby to hear, “What song do you want to skip to, Mexico or Boobies?”
I was often told to “Focus!” when one of the kids would trip over the rope. Yes I guess my consistent pendulum like arm turning with precision and dare I say flawless accuracy for four straight hours is the reason the Boobies rope is currently firmly pressed under both of your feet but if you need someone to blame.
Bucket Ball was born out of boredom and it might go down as the greatest end to a long weekend even Victoria (may she rest in peace) would be proud of.
The rules are simple. You need a sandbox pail and a tennis ball. We used our cement front porch steps to roll the ball up and over and if you are one of a lucky few, right into the bucket. If you hit the stairs and it bounces back, you get a stair-doggy.
Patent pending.
