Gaving had gone to work with his dad today. His fad had an awesome job and one that Gavin wantsd when he was older. So he had no issues asking his dad if he could tag along to work. Just like he had no issues grabbing one of the discarded brooms when the rest of the team was doing stuff.
He sbould have asked permission, sure. But he was past that. Instead he threw a leg over the broom and kicked off. Less then a foot off the ground and he slowly started flying on his own.
Post by OLIVER WOOD on Jun 17, 2017 19:46:26 GMT -6
Something in Oliver always found the need to drag one of his kids with him whenever he was doing anything even remotely competitive. (Some part deep down inside of him probably just wanted someone around who he could easily impress...not that he'd ever admit that.) He needed to instill that same drive in them at a young age, or they'd never be able to keep up with everything happening at school. Besides, what was the point of doing anything if you didn't go full force with no hesitation or regrets or? Might as well just go home in that case.
It wasn't long after they left home that Oliver began to doubt his theory about all of this. "Gavin, if you fall off that broom, your mother is going to kill both of us!"
Post by GAVIN WOOD on Jul 19, 2017 13:00:42 GMT -6
Gavin liked being around his father, especially when he was being allowed to go near anything Quidditch related. As much as he loved other things, he really loved getting to do anything different at all. Maybe his dad wouldn't be too upset about him stealing a broom? Honestly he just wanted to make sure his father was still pleased with him. If his father didn't let him play Quidditch later, he wasn't sure what he needed to do or say.
But his dad was yelling things. Or saying things. "I promise I won't fall off!" Could he really promise that? He honestly didn't think so at all. "I just wanna be in the air too! Shouldn't I be learning so I can be good when I get to Hogwarts?" That was coming up sooner rather then later. His dad needed to get ready.
Post by OLIVER WOOD on Sept 2, 2017 13:42:17 GMT -6
This was it--this was how both Oliver and his child died. Gavin was going to fall off a broom and crack his skull open, and Olivia was going to murder her huband the second he got home because of it. She'd probably get away with it to.
Then again, Gavin has a point. He did need to practice if he was going to be ahead of the other kids when he got to school. Otherwise he might have to wait until his second or, Godric forbid, his third year to make first string. Still, Oliver couldn't help but feel a small twinge paternal instinct that this was not something the needs to happen at this exact moment.
"How about we let you practice at a much lower height and with a helmet and lots of padding?" Oliver gave in.
Post by GAVIN WOOD on Sept 25, 2017 18:06:55 GMT -6
No one would normally call Gavin Wood reckless. He followed the rules and did everything his parents told him to. To a T. He enjoyed it though and he never said anything that would upset his parents. He was fine with that. But he still felt kinda weird about having his dad be all....dad like. Sure, he knew his father loved him. But being the second born, weren't his parents supposed to forget he existed?
He pretended to think about what his father said. And then, being almost eleven years old, he shook his head no. "I'll go at a lower height, but I'm not wearing padding." He had a reputation daddy-o. And he couldn't imagine anything breaking it. Although true, his reputation usually included him reading a book or something like that. But he wasn't going to wear padding. That was just lame.
So he lowered the height, but kept flying. "Besides, you're supposed to be working." A+ kid.
Post by OLIVER WOOD on Oct 6, 2017 23:56:29 GMT -6
Oliver drug his hand across his face in frustration. Take him to work, she said. It'll be good for bonding,she said. Well, his wife had conveniently left out all of this when she'd suggested the outing that morning. He should have known something was up when she even suggested bringing him around his buffoon teammates.
"Practice can..." Oliver put his hand to his chest, a sudden pain erupting there at the mere thought of what was about to come out of his mouth. "Practice can w-wait." Ugh, those words tasted disgusting. He didn't even know that sentence could be strung together. There was usually a big, fat "NOT" mixed right in. Still, Oliver kicked off the ground, flying up level to his son. "You need to slide forward a little more," he recommended. "You're way to small for that broom, so you'll have to compensate more than someone bigger. Otherwise, the broom's going to tip back and dump you off before long."
Post by GAVIN WOOD on Oct 14, 2017 22:41:05 GMT -6
What in the world was his dad thinking? "Why would practice wait?" He couldn't help but blink at his father more and more. Quidditch was the most important thing in the world. Why wouldn't they all be worried about everything? But it seemed like his father didn't care too much. Instead his father wanted him to focus on the importance of flying. Fine. He could do whatever his dad said.
He shrugged carefully and slid forward a little bit. "Really? I'd get dumped off my broom?" He would listen to his dad, since the older male was actually a professional Quidditch player. "What if I'm not good at Quidditch when I get to school?" What if he wasn't good enough to be a Wood?
Post by OLIVER WOOD on Dec 16, 2017 12:21:00 GMT -6
Oliver chuckled at that, kicking off the ground so he could fly up and pat his son on his curly head. "Of course you'll be good at quidditch. It's in your blood. I'm sure you'll make us proud."
He turned to face the rest of the field. His teammates were still milling around, tossing balls back and forth and practicing catches. "Well, I suppose we could take one easy day. I haven't seen the captain yet anyway so we can just stay a little late tonight and come in early to make up for it. It'll be fine. Do you want to practice your flying for a while? Maybe I can talk someone else into a mini-game."