July 25

Adam wasn't feeling well today so I drove Brady up to San Ramon and, after taking a long walk in the 95-degree heat, I plunked my comfy chair down in a shady spot and stuck around to watch his baseball practice.

So yes, that is the foot of my 13-year old.

He was manning first base when an errant throw from third smacked him in the lower leg. He immediately recoiled, and I watched as he winced and walked it off. 

And then when he got home, he rolled up his pantleg and showed me the damage. It's hard to make out, but there's a baseball-shaped red area just north of his tan line. 

I warned him that it would probably be sore and ugly-looking tomorrow and gave him a bag of ice to help with swelling. He took it in stride.

So this evening, I'm thankful that it's just a bruise and that he was able to walk it off. Although it stinks to have a welt and it'll probably hurt for a few days, it's much better than a broken bone.