With the title of this post, you may think I'm going to tell you about taking Poptart to get her shots for Kindergarten, but you would be wrong.
This post is about watching my son watch his Colts lose in the Superbowl. It was heartbreaking.
Gogurt wore his Peyton Manning jersey to school Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and then wore it to church Sunday morning and Sunday night. He left no doubt in anyone's mind who he was pulling for. And last night he said, "I think I shoulda played it a little quieter at school." Yeah, that's a lesson learned.
I tucked him in last night with him fighting his tears....he couldn't cry over a football game could he? He wanted to, and I told him it was quite alright if he did, but he fought back the tears like a stoic, determined man, and that made his Momma cry.
He was concerned about going to school today and facing all his Saints-lovin' classmates. He even wrote a note to the most outspoken one (apparently this other boy and Gogurt have been at it all week). He said he would just walk up, give him the note, and walk away. The note said something like this: "Yes, I know the Saints won. I'm proud for them. P.S. Wait 'til next year."
Every now and then life throws at us mothers wonderful opportunities to teach life lessons. Sports is one of the best ways I know to learn those hard lessons. If you follow sports and especially if you play sports, you will experience the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Gogurt was experiencing the latter last night.
So, as proud as I am of the Saints (by the way, I was the only one in my house that picked the Saints to win), I am holding back on the I-told-you-so's and the Who Dat's. I don't want to pour salt into anyone's wounds.
I feel sorry for Peyton, and I told Gogurt last night that as bad as he was feeling, Peyton is feeling a hundred times worse. But that's how it goes. You win some-you lose some. And there's always next year.