We are having a wonderful morning. Mark was gone last evening, so to shake things up a bit and avoid the whining for screen time, I hauled the boys' basketball hoop downstairs to the end of our long stretch of hard floor. The boys had a blast. Cooper was at it again this morning, and I sat and watched while I fed the baby (because Luke thinks bouncing balls are hilarious and eats well when distracted).
It blows me away every time to think that a child that I gave birth to can actually dribble. And run. And shoot. At the same time??! And he's five. Maybe spending the first 19 years of my life in a hometown where basketball makes the world go round seeped into my blood, despite my protests. So I was laying on thick the "wonderful, wonderful".
The confidence of a five year old is a wonderful thing to behold. He started small. "Mom, I'm going to be just like Jimmer." When I smiled and agreed, he ratched it up a notch. "No, I'm going to be just like River Jordan." I smiled much bigger and agreed. "River Jordan can slam dunk it 50 times every game, right mom?" He then demonstrated some more.
I have nothing to give here but "wonderful, wonderful", so I pointed out to Cooper that he was going to be very tall, like Uncle Jake, and that Uncle Duke is a basketball coach, maybe he should talk to them sometime and they could teach him a few things.
"Nah. I already know everything."
I then fell back on the only advice that a mother like me could venture.
"Maybe you could dribble easier if you had pants on, huh?"
He went for that.