That kid going for the ball, two feet shorter than the kid with the ball? That’s my boy.
We went to an out of town soccer tournament this past weekend — our first one. I don’t know how he has gotten through nine years of soccer and we haven’t ever had to go to an out of town tournament? Maybe I haven’t been paying close enough attention, but if he had packed a bag and left town with a group — surely, I’m not so busy that I wouldn’t have noticed?
Or maybe not.
My boy is my first child. Before we were a blended family, it was just him and me. Each child in our family has a unique reason for being with us, but my son is the only one in our family who knows what it’s like to have me to himself. He is kind and generous — and selfless in so many ways. I worry that he spends a lot of time being so nice because he doesn’t want to be a bother; being so flexible because he has to be; being passive when he should be aggressive. With a house full of sisters, he definitely gives in to things he’s not always game for.
So when he had a moment of fiercity like this — going head to head with a kid that towered over him? It surprised me. And I love it when my kids do that.