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Tears of Joy on a Glorious Sports Weekend
An emotional weekend with the kids.
I’m getting kind of soft as I approach middle age. Not just soft around the midsection—though that area is becoming problematic—but emotionally. I fear that by the time my kids hit middle school I’ll turn into a blubbering pile of spittle and tears as we approach every coming of age milestone. The “It’s just my allergies” excuse won’t hold up forever.
On Saturday, the kids (six and three) and I ran in a 5k to benefit the HelpHOPELive foundation in the name of Joey Duffy. Joey is a sweet, smiling, almost three-year-old boy who recently underwent a bone marrow transplant. We consider Joey’s family to be dear friends so our participation in the race was never in question. My wife was one of the race organizers which left me, six months off Achilles surgery, to run with the kids.
They were both so excited to run their first race and support a friend. My three-year-old daughter spent the past week doing practice runs up to school every afternoon to pick up her big brother. She assured me that she was going to win the race. She clearly had no idea just how far 3.1 miles would be. My son was so excited about running that we had to take him out last week to buy a running shirt and shorts, or “sports clothes” as he called them, so that he would be properly attired.Pin It Tweet
Root, Root, Root for the …Yankees?
At least on the tee-ball field.
I’m officially a baseball coach. Tee-ball to be exact.
I helped out with my son’s tee-ball squad last year on an unofficial basis. I wasn’t involved in practices and generally tried to keep the bench from degenerating into a scene from Porky’s during games. It was fun to see my little guy having fun and making friends with his teammates, but mostly I was glad I wasn’t the coach.
When January rolled around my son and I headed up to the local township building to register for another season of. On our way into the building we had this exchange:
Dad: Are you excited for tee-ball?
Greyson: I’m excited that you’ll be on the field with me.
Dad: What do you mean?
Greyson: You’re gonna be my coach.Pin It Tweet