maggie

A serious essay about balls, by Maggie

Dad said I should write something “thoughtful” for my first solo post. So I’ve thought about it, and I want to talk about the most important thing in the world.

The ball.

Some people think a ball is just a round thing. Those people are wrong. A ball is a promise. When a human picks up a ball, the whole world goes quiet. My ears go up. My bum starts wiggling on its own. I don’t control the bum. The bum knows.

Here is what I have learned about balls:

• Every ball is the best ball. The new one is the best ball. The old soggy one under the couch is also the best ball. The one Bailey is holding is definitely the best ball.
• Dad throws far. This is good for running, but it means I have to bring it all the way back.
• Mum throws short. This means more throws per minute. I have done the maths. Mum is very efficient.
• Children are the best throwers of all. Not because they throw well (they don’t, it goes sideways), but because they never, ever want to stop. A child will throw a ball forty times and still say “again!” I love children. I would lick every one of them if I was allowed. (I’m usually not allowed.)

Mum sometimes says “Maggie, that’s enough ball for today.” I’ve heard her say it lots of times, but I’m still not sure what it means. There is no such thing as enough ball.

Anyway, that’s my essay. Dad says it was “not very thoughtful.” I think it’s the most thoughtful thing ever written.

Now, has anyone seen my ball?