The many ways in which my children inspire me sometimes catches me off guard.
We're transitioning from fall to winter sports, which given the weather is just in time. Patrick's last football game is tomorrow afternoon. My son, who was petrified to play last year after having the wind knocked out of him, has been a beastly cornerback earning defensive player of the week after the first game for some fierce tackles. He has consistently pulled guys twice his size down in the backfield or at the line of scrimmage or on the sidelines. Nicknamed, "Hoker," he's also been a leader firing up his team with his stomps and screams after particularly aggressive hits.
Who is this skinny kid in the red Under Armour and matching red tube socks who was afraid to ride a roller coaster this summer? Is he settling some score with himself?
When Danny and I tried to explain to him that he didn't have to play football this year, he finally told us, "Yes, I do. I have to do it for me." There is no better reason in this world to do something. He would prove to himself, regardless of what we said, that he had what it takes.
Whatever the source of his newfound confidence, I remain in awe.
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