Tucked between the layers of sand, dirt, mud, and sweat.

Hidden deep down where he might forget, but you never would.

Stashed in the corners of a conversation dominated by a whole lot of “no.”

Jammed into his gym bag, under sweaty T-shirts and knee pads.

Cluttered into the corner next to the cleats.

Hunched on the sofa in the midnight-should-have-been-home-by-now hour.

Resting in the rhythm of his safe-in-bed breathing.

Are these moments.

I’m over at the MOB Society for Mothers of Boys (and really anyone else who juggles the occasional crazy).

Join me?

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