I wish I would have played tennis more before Mark and I had children. I just did not appreciate the simplicity of it. Mark's sister, Jane, has been playing in a league and he has been giving her "lessons" for about a year. I was able to join in recently, although I can only manage to get about 15-20 minutes of playing time before Layla, comfortably seated in her stroller on the court, tells me it is time to quit.
Last night, we went to Jane's for a quick dinner and some doubles. I think she was reeling from a bagel beating and needed Mark to boost her confidence. Mark has a knack for taking the moon balls people send flying at him and returning them back to the center of the court so that you can promptly shoot another moon ball at him. After icing Ava's fat lip (the result of a "Jackass"-like stunt of riding her scooter off the park bench) occupying Layla with lots of toys and finding Mia the Plasmacar to drive around, Mark and I took the end of the court against Jane and her friend.
I had not played a "match" since the spring of '07 so I had my fair share of moon balls and errant shots. I had just settled down enough so that I could return the serve and get Mark into the point when we were suspended in total darkness. As our eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I heard a small voice call out:
Mia had shut off the lights on the court. These floodlights are such that once they are turned off, they must cool all the way down before they can be lit again, about a 10-20 minute delay. There was nothing to do but pick up the girls and head home. I couldn't stay mad, but decided to just marvel at Mia's surefire way of getting our attention.
Like I said, I sure didn't appreciate it when it was so easy.