Goggle Boy was here yesterday. It is always interesting to watch him and listen to what he has to say, if he says anything at all. He hardly ever wears his goggles anymore: he is grown up now. He is six.
He has his very own place at Grandma's table, at the end, on an old bench. It suits him well: there is plenty of wiggle room. And room to launch, if he feels like launching. And I always try to sit next to him, if I can. I like to help him, if he needs it. He told us yesterday that he is a big boy and no one needs to spread the butter on his roll.
He can do it himself now.
There are lots of things he can do all by himself now. And he does them with great gusto. It is a rare moment to see him without a ball in his hands. He has loved playing with balls since he was just a toddler. A football now, a baseball last summer, and in about a month, a basketball.
It was fun to see him with his Italian cousin, when they were less than two. Both love playing with balls, and both said ball constantly. One in English, and one in Italian. And it was a bond, a connection between two cousins who could only communicate through their common interest.
The goggles happened later. He got them to wear when he went swimming. But he liked them and he wore them constantly. I think they gave him Super Powers. Or maybe it was the dishtowel cape. In any case, he looked adorable in his grandmother's eyes.
And yesterday, even without his goggles, he captured Grandma's fancy. Regaling me with stories of the “football party” he attended on Saturday. It was Reed's birthday. And yes, his best friend, Sam, was there, too. And the football game ended in a tie. How nice, everybody won.
Not so last winter. When Goggle Boy played city league basketball, the score was always the same. “We won! Ninety to nuthin'!” Of course, at just barely six, they don't keep score. It is all about learning to play as a team. And the coach gets to be on the court, too, helping his little guys learn the sport.
And “traveling”? No such thing. Little guys running down court, hanging on to the ball for dear life, was a common thing. Of course, Coach was close behind reminding him or her to “dribble the ball!. And usually, they would. I might add that the best shooter on the team was.......a girl!
But for now, Goggle Boy is content to throw a football any time he has a chance. He tossed it a few times yesterday, out in our street, with his dad. He doesn't need someone to play with though, he is perfectly happy throwing the football up and then running and catching it, all by himself.
Every time I look at the picture of Goggle Boy, it warms my heart. He is a unique little guy, and a good person, too. He takes his sports seriously, but not his life. He knows that he is destined for big things but, at six, it doesn't matter what they are. As long as he has a ball to throw, or catch, or kick, or hit.
Oh, and for Christmas? He asked Grandma for a tennis racket...
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