He kicks balls.

Sometimes I feel like I need to spend a little more time encouraging my son to participate in more visceral male activities.

Usually this realization will hit at a time at which I am putting on my make-up and Brae is standing beside me braiding my hair, or while we are watching Sex and the City and laughing our asses off while panting our toenails and commiserating on the single life.

But I will look at him and realize that while I may be grooming my son to be the world's most compassionate, understanding and sympathetic man that this world has ever seen I also may be excluding a huge chunk of life from him. A chunk that has been missing for quite some time now. So it is time that I stop whining about the lack of male influence on my son's life and start providing some of that influence myself. I may not know all of the tricks, or things to say. I'm probably going to pick him up and hold him a few minutes longer when he gets that first bloody knee. But I can be good for this because I want to. And I CAN set up that soccer net in the front yard and let him whack the shit out of my calves.

And so I did.
(Disclaimer: my parents are in this video. I am not married to a 60 year old man. My mother is. And he is not really 60, although he make look it. Bad genes on that side of the family.)


Brae kicks balls from casey on Vimeo.