Winning Strategy
Big Son and Daughter really truly hate their Saturday Japanese school. But they haven`t yet figured out that there`s a direct correlation between their homesickness and their father`s insistance that they need to keep their Japanese up to grade level.
Every time they whine about how much they hate San Francisco, and want to go back to their old school and friends in Japan, and want to go high school in Tokyo -- they buy themselves a few more months of intense Japanese studies.
And it is really intense -- it kills most of the day, from 8:45 to 3:30, and the teachers attempt to cram a whole week`s worth of work into that single day. It also wreaks havoc with any attempt to keep our kids playing organized sports.
Now, Hub was captain of his high school baseball team. They made it to the Kyoto finals, and he hit a homerun on TV, and it was the happiest day of his life even though they lost the game. If you ever meet Hub, he would be happy to tell you ALL about it and show you the game photos in his Palm Pilot -- I`m not kidding. He fully understands the concept of diehard commitment to one`s team -- most Japanese people are born with this hardwired in their DNA, and it explains their nation`s collective behavior in World War II.
Until now, Hub has allowed the kids to miss a morning, or an afternoon, of their Japanese school to play in their games. Big Son was on his school`s soccer team in the fall, and Daughter is now on the third-grade basketball team.
But today was the first day of the new school year at their Saturday school, which follows the Japanese school calendar. There was a little entrance ceremony, and the kids were introduced to their new teachers.
And....Daughter`s team was playing Mission Dolores at 9:00 am. There are only seven players on her tiny team, and one is unreliable.
All week, Hub and I argued about this. Or rather, he argued, and I kept quiet and let the little sportsman in his DNA whisper my case on my behalf.
Monday: "The reason they hate their Japanese school so much is that you allow them to miss it so often," he said. I didn`t say anything. The little DNA voice in Hub`s head said, "She can`t let her team down."
Tuesday: "Daughter has gone to every other game. She can miss this one," Hub said. The little DNA voice in Hub`s head said, "She can`t let her team down."
Wednesday: "Other kids have missed games when their families were away on trips. Daughter has a right to miss a game, if she has something else that`s important to our family," Hub said. And the nagging little DNA voice said, "She can`t let her team down."
Thursday: "Basketball games are about having fun, and Japanese school is academics, and academics come first," Hub said. Nice try, but that little DNA voice said, "She can`t let her team down."
On Thursday, Daughter`s coach stopped me in the schoolyard and said she heard from Daughter that she wouldn`t be able to play in Saturday`s game, because of her first day of Japanese school.
"Oh, she`ll be there," I said.
Friday: "I`ll call the principal of the Japanese school and tell her that Daughter will be late on the first day of the school year! I`m sure she`ll give me a hard time because Daughter misses so much school, and it`s really inexcusable!" Hub said.
But the little DNA voice was whispering to him, "She can`t let her team down."
So this morning, Hub went to drive Big Son to the Japanese school, and Daughter put on her basketball uniform and I took her to her game.
Hub and I had a mini-argument over whether Little Son would go with Mama or Papa.
"I need to talk to Daughter`s new teacher, and apologize for her being late on the first day of class, so I need you to take Little Son," Hub said.
"Little Son will be bored and bother people in the bleachers," I said. "Besides, when you talk to the teacher, you`re going to play Good Parent/Bad Parent, aren`t you?"
I knew he was.
"You`re going to imply that the Bad Mother insisted Daughter go to her basketball game. Right? You`d have more credibility if the teacher sees that the Bad Mother also made you take Little Son with you. It will enhance your standing as Good Father," I said.
Hub didn`t argue with that. He left with Little Son.
Daughter`s team lost by two points, but they played a good game -- and it certainly felt better than losing by forfeit due to too few players.
So Daughter didn`t win, but the little DNA voice in Hub`s head did, as it does everytime.
Every time they whine about how much they hate San Francisco, and want to go back to their old school and friends in Japan, and want to go high school in Tokyo -- they buy themselves a few more months of intense Japanese studies.
And it is really intense -- it kills most of the day, from 8:45 to 3:30, and the teachers attempt to cram a whole week`s worth of work into that single day. It also wreaks havoc with any attempt to keep our kids playing organized sports.
Now, Hub was captain of his high school baseball team. They made it to the Kyoto finals, and he hit a homerun on TV, and it was the happiest day of his life even though they lost the game. If you ever meet Hub, he would be happy to tell you ALL about it and show you the game photos in his Palm Pilot -- I`m not kidding. He fully understands the concept of diehard commitment to one`s team -- most Japanese people are born with this hardwired in their DNA, and it explains their nation`s collective behavior in World War II.
Until now, Hub has allowed the kids to miss a morning, or an afternoon, of their Japanese school to play in their games. Big Son was on his school`s soccer team in the fall, and Daughter is now on the third-grade basketball team.
But today was the first day of the new school year at their Saturday school, which follows the Japanese school calendar. There was a little entrance ceremony, and the kids were introduced to their new teachers.
And....Daughter`s team was playing Mission Dolores at 9:00 am. There are only seven players on her tiny team, and one is unreliable.
All week, Hub and I argued about this. Or rather, he argued, and I kept quiet and let the little sportsman in his DNA whisper my case on my behalf.
Monday: "The reason they hate their Japanese school so much is that you allow them to miss it so often," he said. I didn`t say anything. The little DNA voice in Hub`s head said, "She can`t let her team down."
Tuesday: "Daughter has gone to every other game. She can miss this one," Hub said. The little DNA voice in Hub`s head said, "She can`t let her team down."
Wednesday: "Other kids have missed games when their families were away on trips. Daughter has a right to miss a game, if she has something else that`s important to our family," Hub said. And the nagging little DNA voice said, "She can`t let her team down."
Thursday: "Basketball games are about having fun, and Japanese school is academics, and academics come first," Hub said. Nice try, but that little DNA voice said, "She can`t let her team down."
On Thursday, Daughter`s coach stopped me in the schoolyard and said she heard from Daughter that she wouldn`t be able to play in Saturday`s game, because of her first day of Japanese school.
"Oh, she`ll be there," I said.
Friday: "I`ll call the principal of the Japanese school and tell her that Daughter will be late on the first day of the school year! I`m sure she`ll give me a hard time because Daughter misses so much school, and it`s really inexcusable!" Hub said.
But the little DNA voice was whispering to him, "She can`t let her team down."
So this morning, Hub went to drive Big Son to the Japanese school, and Daughter put on her basketball uniform and I took her to her game.
Hub and I had a mini-argument over whether Little Son would go with Mama or Papa.
"I need to talk to Daughter`s new teacher, and apologize for her being late on the first day of class, so I need you to take Little Son," Hub said.
"Little Son will be bored and bother people in the bleachers," I said. "Besides, when you talk to the teacher, you`re going to play Good Parent/Bad Parent, aren`t you?"
I knew he was.
"You`re going to imply that the Bad Mother insisted Daughter go to her basketball game. Right? You`d have more credibility if the teacher sees that the Bad Mother also made you take Little Son with you. It will enhance your standing as Good Father," I said.
Hub didn`t argue with that. He left with Little Son.
Daughter`s team lost by two points, but they played a good game -- and it certainly felt better than losing by forfeit due to too few players.
So Daughter didn`t win, but the little DNA voice in Hub`s head did, as it does everytime.
posted by L. at 2:52 PM
10 Comments:
This post was outrageously funny. You are a riot and a master manipulator.
I thought you said you studied journalism. I'd swear your major must have been psychology.
Funny. I'll have to remember the strategy.
LOL!! I have filed this in the "things to remember when J is older" file of my brain.. must not let the team down..
You know I would like to meet Hub and his Palm Pilot,
I am learning a lot about managing a husband from you. A lot!!!!!!!!! You are a brilliant strategist.
too funny! do you know that man or what?
LOL that is great. Hummm wonder who is really winning in that one! :)
Great post. :) Loved that you let him argue with himself. :)
brilliant!!! a lesson in marriage at its finest. hahahahaha
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