Elf bought the boys a new totem tennis set, as the old one had weathered down to a nub. Marcus is taking real tennis lessons on Monday mornings before school now, and he quite likes to give it a good thrash, as does Elf. I myself feel like maybe I got it out of my system in my youth, spending hours out there in my backyard, rallying for hours, forehand, backhand, forehand, backhand.
Michael was giving it a go yesterday, with a two handed approach that is hard to pull off with the heavy little plastic bats. This afternoon as Marcus and I played Mastermind in the sun, Michael was throwing the ball around the pole. He wasn't keeping an eye on it, and it nearly beaned him on the back of the head a few times. Finally it whacked him on the hand.
I said "See - I told you that would happen". He said "It got me on the ... er, if it was my foot it would be the ... I call it the hand ankle".