....unless you are the parent. Our 14 year old son loves sports with a passion. At first it was football, now he's running track and in the fall when he goes to high school, he already has in mind set on playing basketball. Whew, I'm tired already from thinking about it. Well in his very first track meet which was on yesterday, I really don't remember what he ran. All I know is that he had to run around the track one good time after getting the stick from another boy after he ran.
It seemed like it took forever for our son to get up and do his thang. So he had already previously told me that his jersey number was number 1 and that it had his last name on his jersey. There is no way I could miss that, but he just didn't know where I was sitting. FINALLY, one guy is carrying the stick from his team and I can see him coming up the lane and I see jersey number 1 holding out his hand ready to run. I stand up. Yep that's him. YEAH!!! RAH, RAH, RAH!!! I saw him coming around the bend and I got closer and I screamed, "Run, Number 1, Run."
He said he didn't know I was out there but he heard me screaming. At the end of the track meet, the announcer called out the scores and the boys team from our son's school came in 2nd. That was for the team; but our son came in 3rd from whatever the name of the run is called. He was so humble about it and said, "Yeeeaaah, our team came in 2nd." I told him that was great but in blog world, I can brag about it that our son's 3rd place run caused the team to come in 2nd place and he carried that stick so well too, while sweating like he had been abandoned in the desert.
Lovingly yours,
No comments:
Post a Comment