My big boys (aged 10 and 8) have recently taken up Australian Football and they are now OBSESSED with it.
It’s great to see them so enthusiastic and passionate about the game, but er, I’m just not a footy fan.
I have a very, VERY low interest in the game. (Except I don’t mind watching all the beefy, hot guys playing on TV).
The other evening, I took them both to the sports store and spent a small fortune on football boots, footy jerseys, footy shorts, footy socks and mouth guards. Times TWO of course.
They came home, pawing excitedly through all their new STUFF. They both sat on the floor and discussed football teams, best players, the difference between a Lyrebird and a Match football, like excited teenagers… and I had no idea what they were on about. Zero.
It was the first time I felt so disconnected from them. And it was by choice.
It felt strange. Because I was ok about it.
It felt strange, because this was *possibly* the beginning of me letting go. Accepting that they are growing up, they have their own interests… and that I don’t really need to be a part of it.
It’s a weird thought.
That night, I crept over to the pile of stuff and took a peek at the footy boots.
I opened up the two boxes and saw them laying side by side – brand new, clean, unsoiled, fresh and exciting – and I missed my little babies already.