Noodle Arms Update

I mentioned yesterday that the kids on The Boy's basketball team have noodle arms, and I sort of stick by that (the combined scored yesterday was 32), but MY kid, well . . . My kid seems to have turned into a beast, and I am truly amazed and thrilled.

You see, I never wanted to play basketball, because the idea of having to get into peoples' personal space to try and steal the ball from them always made me very uncomfortable--especially when you consider that basketball uniforms leave a lot of moist, sweaty, stranger skin exposed. Ick. (Football is different: If there aren't pads, there are at least proper clothes, and you aren't so much invading personal space as you are just plowing people down. In my mind, it's very different, and way less creepy.)

The Boy, though, after a very meek first game, seems to have decided that aggression is okay on the court, and showed none of the pleasant good manners or reserve that he displays generally: He leaped, he grabbed, he intercepted (if you can use that terms in basketball), and he fought for the ball, and strangers' personal space and sweaty skin be damned.

Do you people know what this means? It means that he may grow up to be more sure of himself than his dad and I are. It means that he may be a lot less likely to back down from things. It means that his dad and I may get our wish, because we both believe that we'd be a lot happier if we could find healthy ways to unleash our inner beasts.

Go team!