My Middle Guy LOVES football. Mostly the Bears...though Fantasy Football this year is teaching him to zone into any game. It's nuts.
H is so happy to have someone to watch the games with (even though he still struggles with keeping the language PG). Middle Guy is obsessed. He wants to throw the ball all the time. He wants to run drills. He wants to dress up as a footballer for Halloween. He wears his fake helmet whenever he can. And I'm convinced he sleeps with the ball. Obsessed. It's kinda cute and kinda annoying. Mostly cute.
The other day, we were running the track at the local grade school (the three kids and I). Just 30 minutes on a beautiful day in order to shake out some internal cobwebs. Two teenagers came over and started throwing a ball in the center of the track on the turf. Middle Guy stopped running in his tracks and stared. He sat on the floor right at that spot and looked longingly at them. Big kids. With a ball. Throwing it. I ran a couple laps (small track) and then told him to ask them if he could play. NOTE: He's 9. They are tall teenagers...highschool probably. He says, "Nah, I'm ok."
I run another lap and he's still gawking. I say, "Do you want me to ask?" Him: Shrug. If you wanna? (smile).
I jog over to the guys and say, "You mind throwing the ball to him, too? He's little but good!"
They grunt something in reply but include him. I sneak a peek and see he's doing pretty well. He catches most of the passes, passes well himself and looks decent. TINY but decent. He's putting out a strong effort. And MAN, did he look proud to be out there with the big guys.
As we left a bit later, I said "thanks" and they sorta' smiled. One of the bigger guys bumped rocks with MG and says, "Nice playing with ya!" You coulda' seen MG's smile from a few miles away.
So cool. So fun. I love it when you can forget about the crime and dirt and scum in the world and just see the goodness of people. It's incredibly reassuring.
Hut-Hut-Hike! (Is that how it goes?)
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