Cheerleader

Remember that post a while back about how my kids don't get along? Well...scratch that.
I'm not sure why, but lately they really seem to see each other in a new and positve light. Friday, Parker brought home a drawing of a rhino he had done in art. It was really good...and Hillary said so. And today, after Fine Arts practice, she and her boyfriend came to watch him play ball. Yancy was off at his own game, so for Parker's first game it was just me. I kind of hate basketball...but I love my son, so I sit there on the bleachers and try to look like a fan. But I'm pretty quiet, (mostly for fear of making a fool of myself by cheering when we get a foul or shrieking and covering my eyes anytime the ball touches Parker's hands). While the other mom's are yelling instructions to their sons and cussing the refs, I'm sitting on my hands. When the other Cuba people clap, I clap too. Not so for Hillary...She and Larry made it as the second game started. Since she has been managing for Yancy's team, she's learned quite a bit about the game. She yelled, "Good job, Parker! Get your hands up!" and "Stay out of the lane!" (whatever that means) But she didn't just cheer for him...she called each of the players by name, encouraging and cajoling, clapping and cheering. When the mom next to me asked why the other team got the ball after we shot a free-throw Hillary jumped in.."If it doesn't touch the rim, they automatically get it." I nodded... as if everyone knows that.
We won, and a sweaty Parker loped up the bleachers to where we were. Hillary praised and Parker glowed. And inside, mama cheered!