I couldn’t help myself.
It was my son’s fault. He walked past me, headed to the basketball court outside to shoot around, and I asked if he wanted a rebounder, and he said sure. Was that a “yes, I want my mom to rebound for me” from my 14-year-old son? I set my homework on the sofa and sprinted out the door. I was in my jeans, t-shirt, and my Adidas street shoes (not basketball shoes) and my hair was down. (not the norm for me). I started out rebounding and passing.
“Nice job.” Rebound. Pass. “Good follow through.” Rebound. Pass. Silence. Rebound. Pass. I try not to over coach my kids. I don’t know if that’s good or bad but that’s the way I do it. It went this way for a while, and I’m not sure when it changed, if it was when my husband walked by and encouraged a little one on one, but next thing you know we were full-out one on one. Well, as full-out as an old woman in jeans with hair in her eyes and a teenage kid in his slides can go, but it was fun and it got a little physical and worth the effort. I hit some nice shots and so did he and he learned to follow his damn shot because a 47-year-old should not be able to out rebound a teenager. Well hopefully he learned it, because he heard about it, about 20 times. (I couldn’t let that tidbit of coaching pass unattended.)
So, I broke my rule and fortunately I didn’t break my ankle. I did however, get to enjoy a moment on the court with my son that I won’t soon forget.
I guess sometime rules are meant to be broken.