Mom's always right

     The dishes needed to be washed and I still had homework left to do. Yet my mother and I were still having this conversation. I didn't want any part of it and was ready to get up and walk away. But I knew that doing that would lead to more talks and arguments. "You're going to try it, you're going to like it, and you're going to be good." "Mom. It's lame. It's girly. My friends will make fun of me and I just don't like tennis." I finally gave in after realizing that my fate had already been determined. Now that I was in high school, and getting all 120 pounds of me thrown across the field in football, I needed a new sport. Just not tennis. Might as well take baton twirling or color guard. So my mom dragged my to my first lesson. I pouted. I whined. But I kind of liked it. So I went back, and made it a routine. And my mom was right. I was starting to really enjoy it, as well as become decent. Four months after my first lesson, I tried out for the team and made it. One year after that, I was captain. And my senior year, after being named captain again, I led my team to a 11-4 record in one of the toughest and most populated counties in the state. Don't you hate it when mom's are always right?