Hanging Out in the Alleys

Yes, it's a shame -- three years old and never been to the lanes. How could a decent mumma have let that happen? Have I forgotten one of my favorite sayings-- Poles bowl! -- or my own childhood growing up in the suburban alleys outside of Chicago?

Well, we made it to the bowling alley before dinner for the kids' first bowling experience. We hadn't planned on it being cosmic bowling hour. You know, when they have a black light on so everyone's white clothes look purple, and there are different colored lights flashing, and disco balls, and the 80's rock is blaring. Intense stuff. ADHD-inducing stuff. Sammy was wide-eyed with bewilderment the moment we walked in. He stared open-mouthed at everything. After a while, he got used to the multi-sensory barrage and wanted to crawl around on the psychedlic carpet.

The girls were living it up. They pranced around the lobby like they owned the place, groving to the tunes. Since we weren't the only ones with the great idea of bowling on a February afternoon, Jon took them into the arcade to pass some time during the 15 minute wait. Really, I think he just can't resist the lure of an arcade. Meanwhile, I herded Sammy from the soda machine dolly to the entrance door to the trashcan. Some time later, I found the 3 of them jumping up and down on some dance machine with big arrows and obnoxious lights. Fortunately, a lane had opened up for us.

Watching the girls bowl was something else. I know it was their first time, but it doesn't look like they'll be competing on Bowling for Dollars anytime soon. But who knows, maybe that Polish background will kick into gear at some point.

I have never seen bowling balls move so slowly and still be moving. It was like watching a glacier melt. At one point, Jon actually had to roll a ball down the alley to hit a ball that had stopped. Bowling turned into curling.

Jon tried to give them pointers and to model techniques. The classic between-the- legs-roll became the sit-on-the-floor-and-barely-push -the-ball -at-all move. Amusing.

The scoreboard only made it through half a string. After the fifth frame, Riley had 20, Sophie had 17. And yes, that was with the bumpers up. Our adult scores weren't much better, as we were just chucking the balls down the alley to make up for the tortoise-like pace and to appease Sammy who was by this time trying to crawl out of his stroller and his skin, he had been sitting so long. (Note to self, next time the adults don't even attempt to bowl.)

But the dancing was glorious and the cheering was infectious. You just can't beat the enthusiasm of little kids.