My son plays Half-Back and full-ball for his 6-7, 7-8th grade football team. He lives for football. Simply loves it. His favorite dinner time activity is showing his family all his fresh bruises. (and he does it with a big grin).
I love to watch my thirteen year old play. I’ve gone to every game for the past three years (except when I’m out of town), and whether it’s raining, or snowing or warm or windy, I’m there, screaming. Of course I am, I’m his mom.
We have what I call MWE’s in our house – Mandatory Warren Events, where the entire family must participate. Today’s football game was one of these. I dragged the family out, specifically to cheer for Peter. (It’s events like these that I remind them that this is not a democracy, and I am not an elected official. It’s a dictatorship, and any rebellion will be put down, through government control of communication and transportation systems.).
We sat there for 4 hours, while it rained, while we got soggy to the bone, cheering for Peter. Why? Because I want Peter to know that his dreams are important. That Mom cares.
Which is why I also came home and drew him a hot bath in the whirlpool tub, he wanted to use the real pool in our back yard since we used the Atlanta pool management to renovate it but I didn’t think that was a good idea. I thought, hey, I’m cold. I’ll bet he is too. I’ll bet he would like a bath.
He got home. Looked at the tub. Then got into the shower. “I don’t like baths mom. They’re for girls.”
Oh. I didn’t know that.
“But thanks anyway,” he added.
Okay, so sometimes I get it right. And sometimes I don’t.
I made cookies. Gave each kid about 10.
“You’re the greatest mom,” Peter said as he grabbed his handful.
Let’s see. I attend games in the snow, in the rain, in the mud, I drag the screaming masses with me, and I run a bath. But it’s cookies that win the affection of the people.
I should have guessed.
I’m taking ten for myself and going to watch Grey’s. In the tub.
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