Last night...

...was AWESOME! It was the first basketball game for the chickens. Well, oldest chicken and boy child. Middle chicken (leggy heifer that she is) informs me she doesn't like crowds. But she wants to cheerlead. And when I asked the difference, she explained to me that people wouldn't be focused JUST ON HER. Apparently, this freaks her out a wee bit. Go figure.
So. Oldest chicken was told that since she didn't dress out for five practices that she wouldn't be playing. When I arrived, she was up in the stands, huddled in a corner trying not to be seen.
Don't know what changed the coach's mind (don't care). But oldest chicken was summoned down to the court and (luckily) we had the uniform at hand. She changed and joined her team on the bench. Game started.
The other team was pretty good. Had a couple of really tall girls. We were being outscored 6-4 or something of the like. Coach called out the starters and oldest chicken went in. *insert loud hollers from proud Mama*
The VERY FIRST play she had was that she tipped the ball out of tall girl's hand and drove it DOWN the court for a SWEET lay-up. *insert proud Mama screaming her head off and telling oldest chicken she ROCKED!*
Oldest chicken tore it up. Made a hell of a difference. I can really tell the maturity difference from last year. Last year, when she did good, I got the look up to the stand and a thumbs up. This year, she would glance ever-so-often, but basically she concentrated on the game. She had assists, three or four shots, and some great defense.
OMG! I was beside myself. Excellent, excellent game. Final score? 20-8. Our favor.

Now. For the moral part of my blog.
It IS that time of year again. Basketball for us. About the only sport our rural school offers. And it's also that time of year when parents of opposing teams root for their respective kids. Yay for all that.
But four IDIOT women were actually outside talking trash about our boys such as: knocking one's knees out and flattening another. The "flattening" talk was about boy child. My friend informed these hateful witches that boy child was her son, and there would be NO flattening. In NO UNCERTAIN TERMS.
Can you believe that shit? Honestly.
I get frustrated sometimes, too. But talking about harming another child because my kid's team isn't as good as the other one?
Screw that. And these women, who I have mentally and visually marked, had really better hope that not another offensive word is uttered. Because, you know, I won't have that shit. Period.
In fact, being the hateful individual I can be, I waited for them to come down from the stands. I made eye contact. Boy child's mother was right beside me. And not one word was said. But I guarantee I made my point.

If you can't hold your damn tongue when it comes to this...then stay home. Or someone bigger than yourself will be glad to check you.
Grins*