On Wednesday night my husband and I picked up our 11 year old daughter from track practice.
She excitedly jumped into the back seat, began to buckle herself and without a hint of a greeting blurted out, “Guess what?”
I turned to look at her with her red face and hair falling from her ponytail, “What?” I asked.
“I ran in a 400 meter race against three boys from my class and I came in second. The winner only beat me by two seconds!”
“Wow, honey! That’s great!”
“Yeah. I ran pretty hard and I sprinted really fast at the end…and when it was over I threw up a little bit.”
I don’t know if I have ever been more proud.