Since I know my boy and I know that he needs time to process on his own, I gave him a few minutes to collect himself before I arose from my seat. Brady joined him as I approached, and from a distance I could hear Little Brother encouraging Bigger Brother, reminding him that he'd had great defensive plays (and he did indeed) and that his second at-bat had resulted in a hard-hit ball, but the defender had been perfectly positioned to get the put-out. He told him he should be proud of how he played. Brady glanced up and saw me coming, and --with a look of helplessness on his face-- gave me a frantic "get over here, mom!" wave. And so I did.
It's both a trial and a gift to comfort your children when they face disappointment head-on. As we stood there (and then again later, as we sat on the curb outside the car before heading home), I hugged him and told him that I was proud of him for playing well, and even more proud of him for being the kind of teammate that teammates want to have: the kind who finds the good in everyone, keeps a positive attitude no matter what, and faces daunting situations with an encouraging cheer and a smile and a sincere "it's okay, we'll get it next time!"
And in the end, the sadness dissipated and he smiled a genuine smile. He's disappointed, I know, but I also know that he'll bounce back, because when I asked if he wanted to go to baseball clinic tomorrow, he immediately said yes.
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