Now that T.Puzzle is a camoflauge belt, he technically is allowed to spar. This means I am technically allowed to be completely neurotic about it.
Oh, my denial runs deep. I keep wishing and hoping that his sparring days are far, far in the future.
In class as I grabbed a seat another Mom asked me, “Has T.Puzzle sparred, yet?”
I went into this long explanation about how he has not, how I’m not ready for it, he’s too young, too timid and maybe Mad Dog can take him to a sparring class because I don’t want to see it.
I think a simple ‘no, he has not’ would have sufficed.
Needless to say, as soon as I’m done with my crazy little speech, the instructor approaches me and asks if T.Puzzle has his sparring gear.
Today is the day.
The more I thought about it the more I realized my concerns about T.Puzzle sparring had nothing to do with him.
I am associating this with him being grown-up.
Newsflash— he is growing up.
Sometimes knowledge like this is worse than a flying high kick to the head.
After it was over, it was all relatively harmless, and T.Puzzle shouted, ‘that was the most awesomest!’, I paused and tried to be grateful for how well he handled it.
I still have a ways to go yet.