It is a love hate relationship with the boy and basketball…we all love it, he hates it. Well, he says he hates it but secretly he is starting to like it, I can tell. He has to right? He comes from a genealogy of basketball well beyond his parents. When I was young, life, literally the beginning of my life, revolved around a basketball game. One shining Moment was played at our wedding! He has been wearing basketball shorts since he was born, so he has to be a basketball player, right?
So writing this post has taken me 6 months, because had I written it 6 months ago I would be using far worse words and saying things I wouldn’t be able to take back. I have also realized in the 6 months that it is ok he has been bucketed. It has made me a better mom to him, him a better kid overall & he knows a lesson of hard work. It is better because he stayed with the coaches that have believed in him, they see his little left handed skills and don’t discourage him but encourage him. They generally like him, and aren’t going to tell him he has no potential in third grade. They allow him to just come and learn skills, they don’t charge him they just like that he wants to improve.
I watch him out in the driveway and I see it in his little self when he is putting the effort in, when he plays buzzer beater, when he works on pizza/cookie jar, when he does really want to beat his sister and tries. I see him at his sisters games when he is not paying attention one bit, but when we get home he can tell me everything that happened. I see his worry when her team may loose. I see him laying on the couch and secretly watching a game. I see how hard he works in his conditioning camp and really wants to beat the kid he is racing against. I even saw one of the coaches at his skills sessions that Wyatt drove insane because he couldn’t pay attention actually have a soft spot for him and comment on his improvement. (We refer to that guy as ‘the coach that wyatt cracked’)
I see that small little spark in him, I will admit, it is a small spark, but some day soon that spark is going to cause a little, small, tiny brush fire. I hope that the same thing that happens to a small brush fire happens to my boy. If that spark never starts a fire, I have accepted it (ok maybe haven’t accepted it, but am better prepared for it). I know his potential, I know he will still be a productive citizen, I know he will still be successful, I know he will be polite, I know how big and caring his heart is, all the things that are important and all the characteristics I WILL be focused on raising a son.
and he is a really good brother