Took the photo above just yesterday. Connor's coach is about to put him into the game. It was a tough one. The other team was physically much larger than ours and the officiating was not good. Our Dragons lost and things are feeling dire with a 1-3 record. This is Connor's third year playing football and he's never been on a team with a losing record before. He seems more annoyed about it than sad.
Last night I ran over to the mall to return Bob's birthday gifts (shirt too small, pants too big!) and Connor came along because he wanted a new xBox game (Skate3) that he's been playing at a friends house. He hadn't had dinner so we stopped at the food court and ordered some Chik-Fil-A.
It was busy there so you had to place your order, move to the side, and wait for them to call your name. Connor, video game box in hand and wanting to read it, drifted away from me and I didn't notice. After a bit I realized he wasn't with me and turned to face the giant seating area--scanning the packed food court for my missing offspring.
You know that feeling? That quick flutter your belly that comes with the momentary panic that you've totally lost your child? I had that. And in my head I was beating myself up because when we'd walked up to the Chik-Fil-A I had been thinking about how relaxing it was to just be with Connor out in public and the freedom that came with not having to be constantly on guard about where he was. It was a brief respite from the vigilance required to monitor my 3 year old. Really. I had just been thinking that very thought and now my handsome 10 year old
was gone. Surely snatched by a creepy guy and now being drugged in the bathroom, his hair dyed, his clothes changed---so the creepy guy could smuggle him out of the mall past the alert crowd that was about to be created when I contacted mall security and began screaming "Connor!" in the food court.
But no. There he was. I finally spotted him after a good 2 minutes (it felt like an hour) of roaming and searching. He was standing beside a table with I family I didn't recognize who were eating their dinner. There was a mom and dad, two smaller kids, and a boy about Connor's age. He was deeply engaged in conversation.
I marched over on a mission. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to smack him. I wanted to hug him
while I smacked him. As I drew closer, I noticed that the dad was wearing a t-shirt with the logo and name of the team that had beaten Connor's team earlier in the day-the Panthers. I still had on my Dragons t-shirt as well. I got to the table and nicely said hello and then turned to Connor and said with some tension in my voice "You scared me. I couldn't find you." He gave me the blank stare of a 10 year old who's in trouble but paralyzed to respond. The dad jumped right in to his rescue though and said "You have fine young man there. He was standing nearby and saw my shirt and came up to me and said "I remember you from my game today." He then walked right up to my son, stuck out his hand and said "Good game, today, man. Good game." I asked them if they knew each other and they don't. That's quite a nice thing for your son to do and I appreciate it."
Connor looked at me and was proud. I thanked the dad for what he'd said and for letting me know what Connor had done. We chatted with them for a moment and then Connor and I said goodbye and headed back to Chik-Fil-A to get our likely now very cold chicken.
I hugged him. And I forgot all about the smack.
