I'm usually a faithful supporter of Casey's soccer games, but last night he had a late game, it was a little chilly, I had to attend Young Women's until 8:30, and I needed to get the house somewhat cleaned before we leave on our trip Friday. So I decided to just stay in.
He got home a little after 10 (this picture isn't from his game last night), and I first ask him how his ankles are doing. I bought him some new cleats for his birthday, which have been rubbing his heels raw. He turned around to show me his bloody socks, and optimistically said, "I don't think they grew in size; they just opened up again."
I then ask him how he did, and he casually says, "I had one assist and a hat trick." Of course he did! The one time I decide not to go to his game he's the freaking all star of the game. What miserable luck.