As the Billerica White Sox rolled into tee-ball practice tonight, I could feel every part of my day getting better.
Eleven eager kids ready to play, and a coach who needed to get outside and run around just as much as they did.
Though, before we got going with our first drill, one of the players handed me a stark white envelope with two dog stickers on the back, and “Coach” neatly written over the seal.
“This is just for you,” he said.
Miraculously, I managed not to cry. I opened my gift very carefully to find a handmade card, crafted out of green construction paper and magic marker. Inside it read:
Happy Mom Day. Let’s go White Sox. You are the best coach.
My huge smile and big hug let him know that I loved it.
“And,” he added, “there are tattoos in there, too!”
When practice was over, I came home and decided to put one of the two tattoos on my left hand. (I’ll be saving the second one for our game on Saturday.) Then I texted a picture to the player’s Dad, and told him to pass on the message that I couldn’t wait to show off my new shooting star to all of my friends at work tomorrow.
His Dad replied:
He says he gave them to you because you’re a great teacher.
And that’s when I cried a little bit–because I let myself believe that he’s right.