Tuesday, December 17, 2013
The Saturday morning scene:
-Ten 4-year-olds running up and down the court chasing a mini basketball. Dribbling is optional and rare.
-Dads/coaches encouraging proper form with phrases like, "Pass it to your teammates!" "Dribble!" "Remember hands up for Defense!"
-Emphatic cheering and clapping every time a child on either team actually makes a basket, which of course has been lowered to a reasonable height.
-My son, running to me on the sideline every now and then for a hug and a high five.
-Heart bursting out of my chest watching him learn a sport that I know means so much to his Daddy.
If brother grows up with any kind of athletic talent what-so-ever, I won't be able to take any credit. But watching him hustle to the ball, rebound, dribble (better than I can), pass to his teammates, and be a good sportsman is just so fun to watch. And it's making me think that perhaps he inherited his father's unusually high dose of athleticism. I loved listening to all the little pieces of advice and game rules that my husband was introducing him to. They have a sweet little rapport that makes me melt. The technicalities of basketball are not something I would feel capable of coaching, that's for sure. On the other hand if you need art, music, or dance - I'm your girl.
Since my kids were born, I've always been the one carting them to their various activities and classes during the week. So it's been fun to give this one to the boys every Saturday and let them make it a special time.
I must admit, I wouldn't mind being a basketball mom. Time will tell.