A real character

Raising children has a weird, ongoing experimental quality to it. You do what you can. And then you send them out into the world. Holy shit, is that part hard. You worry about how they will do and what outrageous thing you said that they will inevitably repeat at school and hope like crazy that they don’t swear nearly as much as you do.

And then, as if by some miracle, you get an email letting you know that your son has been nominated by his teachers and fellow students for an award. An award for having character. Not for being a character, which he mostly assuredly is, but having character.

And here he is, in all his glory, humbly receiving his award (back in January, because I suck at updating my blog) while we all nearly froze to death while his principal went on and on about who knows what because, hello, I am only here because Grand Master H has character damn it!

Turns out the kid has more character than his mother.

 

Anyway, my point was, I was so proud of him. He is such a sweet young man. He has a huge heart. His kindness and generosity just blow me away.

 

 

 

 

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