“Am I taller? Measure me.”
“Hmmm, looks like you’ve grown at least 2 ½ inches since last summer.”
“So how tall am I?”
“Looks like 6 foot and ¾ inches.”
And so goes my conversations with my son since mid-July. His first football game as a freshman is August 25th. When he isn’t fretting about his height, he wants me to admire his growing biceps.
“Mom, check these out. I’m a beast!”
I’ll admit it. I love football. As long as no one gets hurt. My brother, John, played when he was in high school. In fact, his team went to the state championships when he was a senior. Football fever whipped our small town into a frenzy. By all accounts, my brother’s small rag-tag team should not have done well. But they just kept winning. School was let out early the day of the big game so hometown fans could make the trip to Massillon, Ohio. I think it snowed. They lost.
|Program from John's playoff|
“Mom, did you see where Maddox got drafted by the Lions. And the Howey kid got drafted by the Seahawks. That is crazy! Two kids from Monroe. Where did Maddox go to college?”
“Maddox went to Central Michigan and Howey went to Eastern Michigan.”
|My brother the football star!|
I love football but it also scares me to death.