This was Offense Defense Football camp with all sorts of tough guy coaches from highschools, colleges and universities across North America. It was five days of eight hours playing serious wear-your-pads-because-you're-gonna-get-hit-football. I couldn't believe I was letting my baby do it!
I thought I'd gotten over my angst during his first year of football when I complained to his first coach with the Yucaipa Thunderbirds that I've spent the first eight years of this kid's life teaching him to be nice to others and now he's learning to knock people over and steal things like balls. The coach took some extra time and listed out all the pro football players who are either ministers or take up knitting in their spare time. See, nice guys. Really.
So, now my kid's dream is to be captain of the Notre Dame football team. Ugh. Not only does he choose a private school on the wrong coast far, far away from mommy, but it's football. Tennis is a nice sport. So is golf. Not many people get hurt playing golf. (Except my grandpa who, seriously, hit a ball on the fairway and it hit a tree, hit his head and knocked him out cold. We ARE polish, you know.)
So, after a lovely week of eating PLU cafeteria food (hated it), having a room mate who was not a younger brother (loved it), and proudly displaying his raw knees and camp crotch (argh! some things a mother needs a little warning for beside, 'Hey mom, look at this!'), we have these nice photo mementos:
Water break - the only week when it was above 70 degrees here in the northwest (waaaay above 70 degrees) and Jared has to play football in all those clothes.
Hangin' with the big boys.
Uhm,.. guess the cheer section needs a little work....Sabrina, the game's over here,...
Football!
Yikes, all that testosterone in one dorm.
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