This boy’s team lost out in the post-season tournament over the weekend.
Kid after kid came out of the dugout heartbroken or stompin’ mad.
I braced myself for my spirited boy’s reaction…
My boy looked at me with a smile and asked, “I played good, right, Momma?”

 

Yes, son. You played well.

Most days, I don’t know how to do this… this mothering, this raising boys…
And I fear I’m doing it all wrong.

But I feel like somehow, just maybe we’ve done something right…

One Comment

  1. This is awesome! I so love reading your recent post, seeing tiny glimpses into your life. Praying for you STILL! I think of you often!

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