Will and I head off to the pre-season baseball meeting the other day. I have Reagan in a stroller because the nouns “Meeting” and “Reagan” don’t go well together. “Free-Range”, “No-limits”, “Wild-Crazy-Party” and “Chaos” all go well with “Reagan”, but “Meeting” doesn’t go with “Reagan” unless “Constraints” get involved. So we head to the meeting with our “Constrained Reagan”. We sit in the back with “Constrained Reagan” because it has been our experience that “Constrained Reagan” sometimes becomes “Loud Reagan” and “Attention Demanding Reagan” very quickly, necessitating quick access to a door, window, or fire escape. 

 

We’re the only mother-son duo at this event. There are other parents there with their kids, but the dad-son duos picked up information packets and left, not caring about the information meeting. Some dad-daughter duos stayed because even a young female needs to hear details – safety, apparel, etc. So we are in a room with daughters and parents and we are in the back of the room with “Constrained Reagan” who insists upon smiling and waving enthusiastically at every person who enters the room. This enthusiastic greeting causes all who enter to come over and say hello to the friendly little girl and to say an obligatory hello to Will and me. Basically, everyone has seen us.

 

The meeting begins and all of the usual information is presented – practices, attitudes we should display, blah, blah, blah… Then the issue of equipment comes up and after we cover rubber cleats, bats, gloves, uniform the young man at the front says to me “Your son will also need a cup this year.” The meeting continues and I make a note to pass this off to Chris. Will, however, has questions.

 

“Why do I need to bring a cup?”

“All boys need a cup.”

“The girls don’t?” 

 

I decide to let his father handle this. This meeting, with a room full of daughters and a “Constrained Reagan” is not the time, nor place to explain the difference.

 

“Girls won’t need them.” I whisper. Several of the dad-daughter duos are looking at us. The dads are smirking at me. I smirk right back because I know one day they’re going to have a lot more than the “cup/cup” discussion with their daughters. The joke is on them.

 

Wilson, ever a champion of women’s rights gets annoyed. “You mean they’re not going to let those girls have anything to drink?! What if the girls get thirsty?”

 

I realize there is no way he’s going to let this go. I give him a quiet run-down of the mechanics of this male-specific piece of sports equipment. He stares at me with very large, surprised eyes. His mouth is wide open. He looks like I have just slapped him. Very loudly he says “You have GOT. TO. BE. KIDDING. ME!!!!”

 

My son is obviously upset over the issue of equipment or the possibility of injury but I don’t stop to find out what the main concern here is. I stand up and direct “Constrained Reagan” and “Shocked Will” to the nearest exit. We don’t speak on the way to Sonic. We don’t speak while we drink our cherry cokes. Even Reagan is uncharacteristically quiet. I say “You want to talk about it?”

 

He looks at me from the corner of his eye and says

 

“There’s no way you’re taking me shopping.”

 

I agree. Apparently he’s reached the age where some things are just off-limits for a mom. When we get home he grabbed Chris and said “We need to talk.” 

 

“Un-Constrained Reagan” and I head upstairs to brush baby dolls hair and pretend to have a tea party.