Our two sons enjoy playing sports. Our oldest, Wes, began to wrestle in middle school. He has continued the sport, practicing his moves on his younger brother. My husband joins into the fun and soon the three of them are wrestling on the kitchen, living room, or in the bedroom. Actually, if there is open spot, they will engage in one move or another. Personally, the sport makes me tense. I return from watching a meet and my shoulders are completely tight.
Tim has been wrestling at club. He enjoys it and can’t wait to join the middle school team next year. Recently, the club had a mini tournament. Tim went, facing boys older and bigger than him. He’s use to being the biggest, so this was a challenge. Since I missed the matches, my oldest son came home and began to give me the play by play. They did video parts of it (the camera never stays steady), and all Wes could say was, “Oh, Mom. You have to see this. Tim put legs in.” So watching the video, sure enough our youngest tried to do a high school move that Wes does on him all the time. The coaches took notice. Tim pinned all three of his opponents.
“I taught him that,” Wes stated with pride. “Tim did an awesome job.” Wes looked at Tim with a glimmer of pride. Tim soaked it in. This was his moment. I stood dumbfounded. Was this the same older brother who continually puts a move on his younger brother? The same older brother who picks on his younger brother? I was amazed. I guess they like each other after all.