You know that scene at the end of Jerry Maguire â€“ where the little boy hurls the baseball over the fence?
Yeah. Thatâ€™s my kid. Except substitute shoe and roof for the ball and fence.
Search came running toward me when I arrived at preschool pickup.
â€œDestroy threw the show. On the roof!â€
â€œYour boys,â€ sighed their teacher, as she came in to explain the latest incident report.
She had momentarily turned her attention to the rugby scrum dogpile occurring behind her. (Unsurprisingly involving Destroyâ€™s partner in crime, Search.)
Suddenly there was a shout. â€œSHOE!!!â€ yelled Bonnie.
â€œShoe?â€ inquired Miss M, suspiciously eying Destroy because when trouble abounds, heâ€™s usually involved.
Following Bonnieâ€™s point, all eyes raised skyward, including the mischievous glee and delight glinting from Destroy. Precariously perched atop the school roof, was a pink shoe.
Seriously? The roof?
â€œSooâ€¦â€ I started, trying to compose myself from fits of laughter before chastising the outfielder. â€œUm, do we owe Bonnie a new pair of shoes?â€
â€œMr. Randy go on the roof, too!â€ explained Search, who was clearly enjoying his role as the color commentator. â€œDestroy throw Bonnieâ€™s shoe. On the roof.â€ (Translation: Facilities was able to retrieve the wayward sneaker and I am a good boy and did not do what Â my brother did.)
â€œWe throw baseballs. And ONLY balls,â€ I chastised. â€œDo you want to play baseball?â€
(Because letâ€™s face it, getting the shoe to the roof actually takes a good arm.) Meanwhile, Jon relayed the incident to his colleagues.
â€œBummer dude,â€ was the response.
â€œHeâ€™s not even 3.â€
â€œHoly crap! Thatâ€™s awesome!â€
His father and I had a chat with him the following morning.
â€œDo we throw shoes?â€
â€œNoooooo,â€ gloated a smug Search. â€œDestroy throw Bonnieâ€™s shoe on the roof.â€
Three hours after I dropped him off at school, I got the call. Alas, it was not from a scout.
My precious Destroy had once again demonstrated his athletic capabilities, hurling his ladyâ€™s shoe over the 14-foot fence into the neighbors yard.
Thankfully, the chickens that live there did not eat the sparkly pink shoe. The family that lives there returned the footwear along with admiration for my tiny tot’s gun.
Publically the kidâ€™s on the bench; heâ€™s in trouble and weâ€™re going to work on some behavior modification. Privately â€“ Iâ€™m seriously impressed.
And really, Bonnie needs to keep her shoes on.