Yesterday, I found a permission slip casually laying on the kitchen counter. The permission slip was for a competitive traveling basketball league, and; I surmised by the stealthy placement of the slip- in a location that I was unlikely to miss it- that the Cub was interested in trying out for a team.
When I asked the Cub about the slip, he got teary-eyed as he explained to me that, yes, he really kind of wanted to play, but, he knew that the season interfered with wrestling and, on the one hand, there are a lot of people who want him to wrestle and, on the other hand, there are people who want him to play basketball and he was just. So. Torn.
My heart broke.
So, I asked him what he wanted. Did he want to play basketball? Did he want to wrestle? He reluctantly admitted that he kind of wanted to play basketball but that he didn't want to disappoint his father, who, he believes; really wants him to wrestle.
I hugged him tightly (as tightly as a fourteen year old boy will let his mother hug him, anyway) and told him that his father wants him to be happy-to do what makes him happy, and, I promised to talk to Hugh about the league and to get back to the Cub.
This morning, I broke the news to Hugh. He took it really well.
So, the Cub will try out for the league. I hope he gets on a team with his friends. I hope he enjoys the heck out of the experience. I hope the tournaments are close by, or, that we are able to arrange for the Cub to travel with friends in the event that we are not able to take him (we already have several weekend obligations in the coming months), and, I hope that he always remembers how proud of him we are and how much we love him and support him in everything that he wants to do.
And, one day, I hope I will be able to get the picture of my son tearing up because he was so afraid of disappointing us out of my head.
This may require therapy.
Or, wine.
Same thing, really.
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