...as I cared for my 11 year old son.
In the previous video you were shown his black eye. He got that black eye from throwing a baseball up in the air and catching it.
Only one time he missed.
He was quiet during dinner. He was exhausted from taking the EOG's and the trauma of being hit in the eye with a baseball.
After dinner he goes outside and wants Superdad to play catch with him.
Do you see where I am going with this?
I was cleaning up from KIDS gone Wild when I hear the crying. I look out and see B2 crying and making his way in the house with blood on him. I heard him say, "It's bad."
My poor baby missed the ball again.
His nose caught it though.
I met him at the stairs with a towel. I just sit in the floor holding my baby. Rocking him. Getting him to calm down. I just sit there holding him and rocking.
My poor baby.
I get him up. Fix him a drink and take him to my bathroom. Run him a hot bath. Help him undress and get into the tub.
I wash his hair. This is where I start to cry. I scrub behind his ears and tickle his toes.
I leave him to finish up and relax in the tub.
No matter how old our children get, they are still our babies.