Wall Ball

Mr. Busypants recently came home from school ecstatic about Wall Ball. I didn’t have a clue about Wall Ball, but Mr. Busypants gave me a crash course.

Wall Ball is the throwing of a tennis ball against the school wall. It’s popular among the older kids, but Kindergarteners have caught on to the mania. Mr. Busypants and five or six of his male classmates (Wall Ball is not for girls, I’m told), have their own running game among the older students, from first all the way up to fifth grade.

Coming home, Mr. Busypants fixated on his need to walk to Wal-Mart to get a Wall Ball. I had no idea yet what a Wall Ball was, but eventually re-directed us outside to play with neighbors. After play, requests for a Wall Ball continued, as did my cluelessness.

Whenever Mr. Busypants wants something I’m not familiar with, I do a search on Google Images to get a clearer picture of the object of his desire. You can imagine my relief when on the first page of a search for “Ball,” he excitedly pointed out “Look, Mama. It’s a Wall Ball.”

To a school aged kid it’s a Wall Ball. To the rest of the planet it’s a tennis ball.

Now I had something to work with.

Boundaries are always tricky when you’re walking the fine line between the I-want-this-now tantrum and the I-need-this-to-survive-the-social-politics-of-recess whimper. You never want to give in to the tantrum, but there are some luxuries in life that are also necessities and for Mr. Busypants, that luxury/necessity comes in the form of a fuzzy green ball that costs about sixty cents.

A small price to pay; nonetheless, that night, Mr. Busypants went to bed Wall Ball less. We had searched the entire house, garage, and any outdoor storage bins, but there were no Wall Balls.

He woke up at 7 AM and told himself out loud (he has not internal filter), “I have to get a Wall Ball for recess.” At 7:01 I called Miss Sassypants’ mom to see if they had one. In the meantime, Mr. Busypants started writing a book about a Wall Ball. Those who don’t have, write. After I gave him his Wall Ball, however, he abandoned that writing project.

While walking to school, Mr. Busypants excitedly bounced his Wall Ball, a necessary social tool for interactions with his peers at recess. He successfully bounced on the playground bandwagon.

He looked so small walking and bouncing and clumsily retrieving the ball on the third or fourth rebound. When we got to school, all his friends shouted to him with warmth, welcoming him. I’m told his arrival always causes a stir almost every day; he’s well liked by his peers.

“Look guys. Wall Ball” he shouts as he holds up his ball. His classmate D playfully plays keep away, gently allowing him to recover the ball once in a while. It’s one of those occasions where play can go either way: it can be the fun it’s intended to be or it can be a tool for teasing and ill will. Clearly Mr. Busypants’ friends happily balance their play so that he in no way feels teased or alienated.

After school we had errands to run like stopping at Target to pick up a birthday present. Scott waited in the car while I ran in. In the car, Mr. Busypants stood through the sun roof like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. News of the Wall Ball spread throughout the Target parking lot as he announced to every person who walked by:

“Look, it’s a Wall Ball. Isn’t it beautiful?”

From Target, I dropped Scott and Mr. Busypants off at the cheap haircut place down the street and Miss Chattyshoes and I went on to the party. The boys met us later and Mr. Busypants told me all about how on the way home he bounced his Wall Ball and it disappeared down the drain. He was already campaigning for another trip to the Wal-Mart.

We’ve had many several trips to restock since (and a couple other desperate phone calls to neighbors). Just today I gave him a twelve-pack of Wall Balls. In his excitement, he insisted the Wilson tag actually said Wall Ball. I didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“Look Mom. ‘Nother Wall Balls” he exclaimed with delight. “It’s beautiful.”

For the next couple of days, Mr. Busypants emphatically insisted on bringing a Wall Ball to school. Soon, however, Mrs. H banned Wall Ball from her class after one too many Wall Balls made it to the roof.

Mr. Busypants knows now, no Wall Ball at school anymore. It’s a rule and he’s ok with it. He’s come pretty far this week.