Two Lessons

Bully Before, Norman Rockwell

This morning, one of our Godsons stood up for himself to a much older boy, and while I'm still reeling a bit from witnessing an actual playground scuffle involving someone we love, I'm really proud of him. I also feel utterly unprepared to raise boys if it involves moments like that. It was all so overt and raw and risky. Compared to the safe, covert machinations of girl children --- in which I'm working on four separate PhDs, if you must know. (Their names are Vivian, Margo, Veronica and Dorothy.) May God steer them towards good men, wherever they roam.

I wish his family could have seen him. I wish I would have affirmed him more in the presence of the Offending Child in the Chilean Team Jersey. I'm hoping his own confident, but measured display brought a rush of righteous affirmation, a reward in itself. If so, any cheering from me would've been so much background noise.

We can add this as evidence that wrestlers will school soccer peasants where it counts ~ any day of the week. Love ya, Lukster.

Bully After, Norman Rockwell