My little man... and his coach

I have written about all the kids before and I love them each for their own unique ways, but my middle child is such an old soul. E is the one that wears his heart on his sleeve, he feels so much more than I think I do sometimes. He has a heart the size of the moon and he is sooo loving. He is also 8 and he thinks he is big enough to be his own boss, and on some things we have let him be. He asked to play baseball this year, and we signed him up before we asked his father. he loves it, the games the practice the teammates. He is having a ball. Well we had a game tonight and he is the lead off batter he got a hit tonight and made it to base. The next little kid hit a pop up and was out. now my little boy who has never played before ran when he heard the coach tell him to. Long story short everyone was yelling for him to come back to the base and he didn't make it before they tagged him out. He ran to the dugout and burst into tears. He was so afraid that the kids would be mad at him. Now I should say my sons coach is a few years younger than I am and I sort of remember him from school. This is a very nice man with the patience of a saint. the little boy who hit the pop up was his son. As I was walking over to comfort my son this little boy put his arms around my son and told him that it was fine he got out too and E had a great hit. I almost lost it standing right there. I turned to look and the wife and she had tears in her eyes also. She couldn't hear what was said but she saw the hug. I was so impressed by this. I wish more men could set examples like this
obviously this boy has seen compassion and love at home from his father and stepmother. I should also add that one of the assistant coaches is the ex husband of the coaches wife. These people are great and I am soo glad that we took a chance and signed E up for baseball. He has grown so much this spring. he is a great great kid. We did lose the game tonight but my son learned a great lesson, and I think that is what matters most.
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