I was there, but I was the wrong parent. I know nothing about soccer. I helped him get into his new shin guards and took a few pictures. I cheered when he kicked the ball and hugged him afterward but I had no words of advice except "listen to your coach." A first soccer game is special, but I know it didn't mean something to me the way it meant something to Whim.
I'll admit there were even moments when I was chatting with another mom and forgot to watch. But not many. He was so cute in his new socks, I didn't want to miss anything.
In the same vein, Whim brought L to the hospital late Tuesday night. M and I had school in the morning, so it made sense for Whim to be the one that took him. He'd be staying with him the next day, anyway. But he was the wrong parent.
He carried him to the car and remembered his blue blanket, and drove him in and I'm sure he comforted him as much as he could, but he's just not the sick-in-the-hospital parent. I am.
I shuddered later when L recounted how he "had to be brave and manage it" when he was getting his shots because Papa was asleep. What?! Granted, it was after 2 am, and he's only human. But I would have held his hand and distracted him with math problems and movie lines...