Foul!

During one of our many hours of home basketball one on one today, W ran straight into my knee and then collapsed in pain. Before you start to feel bad for him, let me just say that I was solidly planted in my defensive position for at least 3 seconds before he ramrodded me. In other words: let's face it. The kid straight up fouled me.

Anyhoo, he was clearly fine but he remained on the ground (indoor playmats) mildly grimmacing. I kneeled down over him and bearhugged him. Something popped into my head and I decided to say it out loud.

"You know," I told him as I gave his forehead a big kiss, "someday when you're a big basketball star, like in High School, you'll get fouled and fall down on the court in a game and I will want to run down to the court and hug and kiss you and ask if you're okay."

Horrified look.

"But I won't," I said, "because that would be embarrassing for you."

Smile.

"So I'm doing it now. I love you I love you."

I gave him another squeeze before he looked up and said "Mom, ball was out on you."

I didn't have the heart to argue (as I usually do), call the foul, and take my freethrows (I play by the rules, dammit). It really hit me that this kid who wants so much comforting and cuddling today, will likely turn into a big "guy" who will not, under any circumstances for at least a few years, let me touch him in public.

Off to grab some more hugs while I can get 'em.