Today coming home from work, I found my son running around the yard with a small football, while my husband was grilling dinner. My son asked me to play football with him and I agreed. So I walked up onto the grass and tucked my dress pants into my ankle socks (so the pants wouldn’t get muddy), and got ready to play the game with him. My son was delineating different trees in the yard as bases, and he was urging me to throw the football at the tree trunks to score points. When I did so, the ball deflected off the trunk, tumbling to the grass, where Joey proceeded to dribble the football with his feet for several yards. I chased him and tackled him to get the ball, to which he responded with fits of giggles. Then he told me we were both on the Giants, but we were on different teams. Offensive line and defensive line, possibly?, I thought out loud.
I bring this up because it was so much fun and so unexpected, and that’s why I love being a mom. Last night, I saw a really prolific show on memories and how we make them , and as I was playing this upside down game of football, I reflected how this was a great memory in the making.


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