I gave my first private lesson today.
I was very proud.
Correction, I *am* proud.
Not only that my children wanted to learn the sport I know and love best, but today, C was, in fact, able to learn from me.
Never mind that I played tennis for many years, and some of my most proudest moments in high school were of me wearing my cute white tennis skirt, k-swiss shoes and pink rimmed visor; I was more nervous that C wasn't going to feel the tennis love and therefore not learn a lick of it from me.
But at the end of an hour, C learned his forehand and backhand grip, and from half court could actually keep his balls - sort of - in our area.
Now I am having dreams of him playing throughout high school and college; I totally am now getting the whole kid-living-a-parent's-dream-thing. I am already thinking of getting myself a gajillion more tennis balls and a ball hopper so I can do drills with him.
I know, I know, but I can't help it. When he started asking about when our next lesson should be, I got excited. When he asked to learn all of the rules in tennis, my heart went a-flutter. And we watched Wimbeldon today and he yelled when Sharapova double faulted, I almost scooped him up to kiss him.
I thought to myself, could it be? - I carried him, I bore him, I fed him, and now he is following in my footsteps!? That he will be the next tennis sensation?
I know, I KNOW! I'm getting way ahead of myself. But can't a Mama ride this maniacal train, even just for tonight? Please, just let me go to bed thinking of the day my son will take me to Wimbeldon, when I will scream encourage him from those awesome boxed seats, throwing kisses and roses at him when he wins.
(yes, I promise, I am going to bed now...have a great weekend everyone!)