My girls are awesome in their element. When I played sports, I had an element, too. It was called the bench.
My girls don’t spend too much time in my element. Ask my parents. Hey, there’s my boy. Him, the one with the bat in his hand. No, not at the plate. No, not on deck. He’s the one balancing a Gatorade cup on the end of his bat.
I could hope for junk time, though. There’s always hope for junk time.