I'm having one of those heart-is-bursting-with-love days. This more than makes up for all the vomit.
Spidey started a basketball class at the Y yesterday. Although he has been talking about this class nonstop since we visited a couple of weeks ago, when the actual day arrived and it was time to go, he put up a big fight. There was just too great a chance that he wouldn't be perfect at everything from the start. He was very nervous about being the only one on the team who didn't possess any basketball skills. His attitude often seems to be "Why try if you can't be the best at it from the start?"
So anyway, being evil parents, we forced him to go. The two volunteer dad coaches couldn't have been nicer. Spidey is on the Green Team which represents Responsibility according to the YMCA logo. Every other kid could already dribble. Crap, most of them looked like they'd already been to some intensive basketball camp. (That, or their dads all played professionally.) And then there was Spidey. He has two non-athletes for parents (endurance running aside). His parents have ZERO skills when it comes to your regular organized sports. He tried so hard to get the dribbling down. They practiced dribbling for a long time; dribbling in one place, dribbling with one hand then the other, then walking and dribbling, running and dribbling. He's got a lot of work ahead of him if he wants to catch up to the other players but HE LOVED IT!
Spidey just came out of his room with a drawing in his hand.
It's the YMCA, a basketball court, all the color-coded teams, and (most importantly in my opinion) "the door where you go in." He said he wants to take it next week to "give to my coaches." And now he's out on the deck dribbling, dribbling, dribbling, and dribbling.
I just can't explain how proud I am that, although he was so obviously anxious -- in tears -- about this new thing, he did it, he found out he liked it, and he wants to go back.
We all went to the playground this afternoon. He's such a precious little dude: