One of my favorite ‘teenage-years’ memories is trying to kick my dad in the head on a routine basis.
Of course, we were in a dojo, wearing sparring gear, and we would both end up profusely sweating and laughing. I didn’t actually kick him in the head very often, but occasionally I could slip in a good double-roundhouse without the ‘old man’ noticing until it was too late.
I’m the old man now, or rather the old woman.
And we’re not doing Tae Kwon Do but CrossFit.
My son and I don’t kick each other during CrossFit, but we get to do fun stuff like carry each other across the room and do wheelbarrows. Even when we’re not teamed up, we still work out alongside each other, and I am consistently amazed by him.
Where does he get his super-strength?
Is it from the mere fact that he is a 15 year-old male?
How can a young man who eats so much pizza have such energy? I don’t understand.
After one or two tries, he just does things right. Under his mild-mannered persona is a guy who can do amazing things–like spring onto tall boxes in a single bound.
I am impressed by his hard work, dedication, and his ability to actually do this stuff.
I am the proud mama.
But it leaves me to wonder: with Clark Kent in the house, which Mom am I?
The one from Kansas or Krypton?
Perhaps after more CrossFit, I’ll start feeling less like Martha Kent and more like Lara Lor-Van.
I’d like to hit my 40s with some ‘super’ powers of my own!