My family and I recently went to watch the Packer Wrestling Team take on Moorhead. My husband and son attend matches every few weeks; however for my daughter and I this was our first of the season.
On the way to the high school my daughter asked if there would be singing at wrestling. Hmm. I told her there would for sure be one song, The “Star Spangled Banner,” but that was probably the only one. She was still excited.
Turns out because it was West Fargo and Moorhead, we have a close friend with a son wrestling on each team. Right when we got into our seats my daughter needed to know where our friends’ boys were. As I looked toward each team to search I found the Moorhead wrestler-friend and noticed he had pink shoes on. I pointed him out to her and she screeched “ooh, I like his pink shoes!” Then she continued, “Is he going to sing Mommy?” The father of the kid smirked as he heard my daughter mention the pink shoes but I’m still not sure if he heard the singing comment.
Now that she had found the one friend’s son we needed to look across the gym and find the West Fargo wrestler we had come to watch. He didn’t have pink shoes and I must say she was slightly disappointed. However, she was still excited to see him and gave me a play-by-play as the wrestler walked back and forth behind his team staying focused for his match.
By the time the first two wrestlers had completed their match she was already asking for a snack. By the end of match number two she said, in her own four-year- old dramatic voice “I’m SO thirsty Mom.” I was able to delay for a few more matches and then my kids and I headed down the bleachers for refreshments.
Re-energized and once again able to concentrate on the wrestlers my daughter sat on my husband’s lap and asked question, after question, after question. With patience he did his best to answer most of her questions. As he pointed out to me, she usually asked the exact same question, just in a different phrase.
During one match the referee had to stop the wrestlers as one had begun to bleed a little. My daughter was very concerned. “Daddy, is he going to get a Band-Aid?” Keep in mind for a four-year-old there is nothing more exciting than getting a Band-Aid. “Daddy, why is he bleeding?” “Daddy, do you think he is scared because he is bleeding?” “Daddy, do you think he needs his Mommy?” “Daddy, does he have to go to the hospital?”
After what seemed like minutes of questions, but was probably on 25 seconds, the match resumed. Sure enough it happened to the same poor wrestler again. And, my daughter asked the same questions, again.
As the rest of the wrestlers continued their matches my daughter could not stop talking about the kid who had bled. “Where is he Mommy? I don’t see him.” I would nicely tell her he probably went to wash up and that we should watch the other boys now. She couldn’t get off the topic. Never mind the match that ended in a quick 15 second pin and had the crowd cheering or the match that went on for all three periods showing the great match-p between two boys with equal brute strength.
Even on the drive home, with droopy eyes she continued to ask questions. All my daughter cared about was the kid who had bled, and of course the other with the pink shoes.