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.



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