Last weekend, the Cheese scored his first touchdown…ever. I was so proud that I actually got it down on film because as I told our extended family members and friends, “who knows if it will ever happen again.”

I wasn’t saying that because my son sucks at football. He’s actually a decent little player. But let’s face it, there is no telling if he will ever want to play football ever again. This season might be the end of his career if he chooses instead to, say, to become a clone trooper or something.

But today he proved me wrong. I watched as the coach set up the play the same as last week.

“Get ready, honey,” I told the Golfer. “They’re about to give our boy the ball.”

There he was, his hands all ready to grab the ball and hold onto it like it was the last toy in the universe and all of the little kids chasing him wanted to take it from him.

When it’s your kid and you’re trying to watch the whole thing through a camera lens and yelling for him to “Run! Run! Run!” it all seems to happen so fast. Before I knew it my son was on the ground after being pushed by the kids chasing him, running toward me trying his best not to cry.

There was a flag on the field.

No worries though because the penalty was on the other team. The crazy thing was, none of us actually knew that he had scored a touchdown until the coach ran over to tell us.

He had scored his second touchdown and we did even know it.

The rest of the game, he played like a man on a mission–a mission to prove without a shadow of a doubt that he was the best player on the field. And as far as his mother, father, and brother were concerned, he always has been.

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