Ever have one of those moments, when you know in your heart that you are incredibly proud of your child? Well this is it. I know the picture is dark and hard to see, but number 10 in the black jersey and pants standing on the edge of the crowd is my youngest son, Peyton. In this football game he caught a pass and was running upfield when he was tackled head-on by a HUGE player from the other team. There was a sickening crunch--you know one of those crunches when you know that one of the players won't be walking off the field? I watched as the pile of players around the play stood up just knowing that my son would be lying there on the ground. I dreaded what I would see. To my amazement, he jumped up straight in the air and jogged off the field. His coach was screaming at him asking if he was okay and telling him to take his helmet off so he could check his eyes for signs of a concussion. My son was fine. The other poor player had to be carried off the field. At the end of the game, Peyton went over to check on the player before they hauled him off in the squad. He apologized and wished him a speedy recovery. I took this picture with tears in my eyes, knowing what a special kid I have. He was the leading scorer not long ago on his basketball team and one of the fans asked me if I was proud of him. I smiled, but inside I thought, no not really. Scoring the most points in a game doesn't matter. Checking to make sure an opposing player is going to be okay, that's what matters. Yep, he's my son, and I'm proud all right.
