SuperBall

Yesterday was a beautiful day here. We did some wrestling in the morning while it was still cool. Tigger and Mongo both enjoy wrestling, but they have different ideas about it. Mongo likes to run up, and then just sort of fall over on me. Not too big a deal. Well, Tigger is named so for a very good reason. He doesn't understand subdue. He only knows annihilation. So he's all knees and speed. But there was justice.

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Later in the day, when my neck stopped feeling so stiff, and my headache had diminished some, Tig and I went out in the driveway to play with a SuperBall that he had. He is boundless in his determination and exemplary attitude. At this point. I enjoy playing these kinds of semi-athletic games with him. He has adopted a habit of encouragement and affirmation while playing such games, whether it's with me or with his little brother, Mongo. He also tends to be somewhat self-depracating, making comments to the effect that he's still too little, and that someday when he's bigger for skateboards, and whiskers too, that things will be different. I refuse to tell him that no, they won't. He'll find out on his own soon enough.

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As I toss the ball in his direction he loves to watch it bounce, and encourages me to bounce it over his head. And I think he wants to catch it, but it isn't happening for him. I mean, it's not like he's getting close but he just can't close the deal. It's more like he is completely not even anywhere close to being remotely in the realm of catching the ball. It has hit him on a soft bounce right in the ribs. But, being a superball, it bounces off. The thing I see isn't a lack of desire. And he's demonstrated athletic prowess before in areas like bike riding, walking, and falling. No. I think the problem is that he's looking at his hands the whole time. Don't take your eyes off your hands.

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I started to wonder, as I watched him, how many times I've gone through the day with my eyes on my hands. I started to wonder how many times has my Father lobbed me a soft one and giggled a little as it bounced off my ribs. I kept throwing the ball with Tigger, mostly because I enjoy playing with him. Not in a cat playing with a mouse way, but a father and son sort of way.

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Not to leave you hanging. Earlier I said there was justice. Later that same day, I heard a new noise from the back room. This is what I found. Sweet, sweet justice, roll on like a mighty river.