Number 3 is giving me a run for my money.

He is the kid right now who knows how to push every single one of my buttons.

But what I have learned in the last few weeks is that the behaviors I’m seeing, the ones that really frustrate and often infuriate me, are not not really his fault.

They are in response to or a result of the ways we have been parenting him.

He’s not doing anything that millions of other preteen boys aren’t doing.

But still. It’s had me somewhat concerned that I haven’t done my job as a parent.

Today he had a baseball game.

And in the third inning or so,  his team had like three errors in a row that allowed a kid who shouldn’t have even been on base to steal home.

Number 3 has always had kind of a crazy arm.

Not crazy like a wild pitcher kind of thing. Crazy like he throws the ball hard and fast. Like hurt your hand hard.

And he either pitches or he plays shortstop.

And so today on that unfortunate run of errors, the center fielder threw the ball to him at shortstop and that kid from the other team who shouldn’t have even been on base was running from third to home, and Number 3 cut the ball off from the outfielder and he whipped it home, and the kid from the other team slid home and was safe.

But the umpire wasn’t looking.

And the ball that Number 3 threw hit him.

Square in the nuts.

Oh. My. God.

It was (unfortunately) the perfect shot.

The poor ump was doubled over, and all of us in the bleachers were both really impressed by the unintentional accuracy of the throw and really worried about the poor ump’s package.

He must have been wearing a cup because he was still able to stand, and about 30 seconds later, he had recovered.

And when the kids walked off the field when the inning was over, Number 3 walked right over to the ump and apologized to him.

There was a big lump in my throat.

He did the right thing.

Thank  God.

I mean, I know my kids know the difference between right and wrong, but sometimes you wonder.

You know?

Shortly after the target practice on the ump’s family jewels, in the next inning, a kid from the other team hit an out-of-the-park home run.

He hit the shit out of the ball.

And as he rounded second on his way to third, Number 3, who was still playing shortstop, put his hand up.

And he high fived him.

Wow.

If there was ever a time I could have used a little validation that I’ve done at least a couple things in the parenting department correctly, it was today.

Number 3 did the right thing.

Twice! In one game!

And it wasn’t because I reminded him or threatened him or because he thought he was going to get something in return.

It was just because he has some internal moral compass.

Phew.

Because sometimes I wonder.

So the moral of the story is my kid did good today.

And I just needed to share that.

 

 

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