Pigskin Paranoia

I should have known it would lead to this.

Despite growing up in an all-girl household where football was reviled, I've always had a sneaking fondness for the sport. So when Scott decided to renew his interest several years after our marriage (he knew my family's opinion of sports, and had been pretending not to care) I quickly jumped on the football bandwagon. I went with the team nearest my heart - the Packers, from my childhood Wisconsin home. Of course, I picked the best team out there, so that worked out well. I learned everything I could about the game and my team, and since then, it's been several years of rivalry and ribbing, and lazy Sunday afternoon (and Sunday evening, and Monday night, and Thursday night) football watching.

But I have a son. And now he's been brought up in a 24-7 fall football environment. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when he wanted to PLAY football.

I refused. I waffled. I refused some more. And I finally gave in. Heck, I let the kid DANCE, the least I can do is let him play sports. And he only wants to play this one sport.

Is it really mommy paranoia to constantly worry that he'll get injured when he came home from his first practice dressed like a tank and STILL had an injury?

Ok, so it's a scratch. BUT I WAS RIGHT!