Evan told me this weekend he had plans to play football next fall. No big deal, really, he has played flag and even tackle before. So I asked if he had a club or a team in mind, and he told me he would be playing for the middle school. Then I freaked out. MIDDLE SCHOOL?!?! Later he mentioned that he had learned that he could play for the 7/8th grade team if he weighed 120 pounds and I signed a release. Then I really freaked out. I don't care if he is an Amazon; he can't possibly be big enough to play with eighth graders! Those boys have practically reached adulthood. Evan must still be reminded to wear shoes when he goes outside to play.
So I told him we were probably moving next year...In the middle of football season. It just wouldn't be right to start something that you couldn't finish. I lied to him, I reasoned, to keep him safe from those burly fourteen year olds that probably shave and have girlfriends. For a split second, I wished he was that boy type that cried when he got trucked. Just a second and then I lost that thought. It was tangled with memories of last second touchdown runs, and I felt the verge of a slight smile in the corner of my mouth.
Tonight he weighed in at 108 pounds. He doesn't know it, but I am going to do everything in my power to make sure he gains at least twelve pounds so that he is the biggest eleven year old you ever saw playing for the 6th grade team.
Now I'm giddy with excitement! I'm already planning my Hawks spirit wear wardrobe.
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