Bowling, bowling, bowling ...

So today I took two nieces and two nephews - ages 8 to 15 - bowling.

One nephew sports a black eye, another a sprained ankle - both from junior high football.

My oldest niece has a t-shirt with a rubber band fastening it taut at the waist. The youngest niece sports pig tails and fills the air with chit chat as her teenage siblings (try to) play it cool.

It's funny how it starts out all mannerly - please, thank you, helping the little sister bowl - to little taunts here and there. Changing a name on the scoreboard above the lane to "gidygidywah hah" or "butt munch."

They're good kids, really. I wouldn't tackle all four at one time (without reinforcements) if they weren't.

On the drive back to their home, after 4 games, they get a little more rowdy.

The eldest dons the parental role from the shotgun seat as the three youngest - two of which are tall lanky teens/pre teens - are in the back seat. The boys look a little smashed in the back of my coupe - not too comfortable for growing adolescents. Perhaps that's part of the reason they're gently bullying their litle sister on the ride home.

As we head towards their subdivision they tell me they've moved. Didn't I know? Just turn here instead. You're going the wrong way, to the wrong house. They all gang up on me and become a team with one goal ...

I don't buy it one bit.

I am flattered. Afterall, this teasing is a sign of approval, of inclusion.