Ricky isn’t all that into sports. His time in t-ball wasn’t a highlight for him. He’s never been interested in playing with balls – kicking, throwing, nothing.
I’m okay with this. I respect that he just might not be a sports kind of kid. He does like swimming, so he isn’t a complete slug. I know some parents would really struggle with a boy who wanted nothing to do with sports, but we don’t really care.
Billy is definitely more interested. He has been kicking a ball around the backyard for as long as he could walk. We’ll probably even sign him up for – shudder – soccer when he is five.
Kevin was visiting with one of Billy’s church teachers this week and mentioned this future soccer playing. Her response, “You need to get him in basketball! I’ve seen him throw some GOOD elbows!” Sigh. Oh, Billy.
So, since this is our reality, you can understand my shock yesterday. I picked Ricky up from school and asked how his day was. He told me it was great, especially last recess. I asked why and he said,
“Momma, I played football!”
I was beaming inside – my son was excited about a sport and I love playground football.
Then he said, “Yeah. I was the MASCOT!”
There you go.