I am a mom. Plain and simple. My angel daughter. *cough* *cough*
Then, there is my oldest son, whom I love so very much.
Then, there’s this little man…
Friday night was his first game playing catcher. I was extremely proud of him. He got hit in the ankle with the ball and it hurt. I could see the hurt. He came off the field and met his coach. His coach rubbed his ankle and talked to him a little bit. He walked back to his spot and coach put his helmet back on him. Everyone clapped for him.
Later, at home, he asked us a question. Through tears, he wanted to know if everyone was happy he got hurt. I teared up at his heartbreak. We told him that no, they were proud of him for being such a tough guy.
Saturday morning, we played again. He got hit on his knee. Mama came out of the stands this time…he had started crying right there on the field. I knew he was hurt and was hurting badly. The ball had hit the side of his knee, just above his knee cap. It was all I could do to not go out on the field. I hovered around the dugout and he walked it off, then ran back to his spot. Every one clapped for him.
He was hit a couple more times, and took those hits without complaint.
I was very proud of him. He is growing up by leaps and bounds.
And after church tomorrow, we are going to get him body armor.