After the game my son asked us, “Did you see the triple and double that I hit? Did you see me throw out that guy at third base?” Yes, we told him we did, it was great, and we also saw his throw to second and more. Later we talked about his team, his coaches, the other team, the personalized jerseys that I am handling as team mom, and opening day on Saturday.
It was a night where we did not talk about studying for his Spanish test, the scientific theories of evolution, debating as to why he has to get online to play with the PS3, why he can’t have 3 friends spend the night this Saturday, and how it sucks that he has a (very tiny) pimple on his face, and why he shouldn’t wear shorts when it is 38 degrees outside.
I’ve realized lately that my oldest son prefers to share some details of his life with only my husband. Such as asking him if he could borrow his cell phone to talk privately in his room to a girl. Or if he can go to the movies with a girl and can Dad drive them (I would have said no. I guess the outing didn’t go well as it only happened once).
When our boys were born I said I could not possibly image myself at sports games cheering and participating. I’ve been pretty quiet at soccer games and roller hockey games and let’s not even mention the football games he’s been on in the fall (true confessions my alma mater is the national championship team but I just don’t understand the game still after all these years).
But I love watching baseball with my sports fanatic son and his new team each year, and the special camaraderie it brings to us.
