We went out to see Aunt Andrea, Uncle Rob and Wills. Muschi told Vake that he could hop up and help drive the tractor. Someone didn't need to be asked twice.
And if that's not enough, see this little boy's expression when he ran across a football. It is DEFINITELY saying, please, Mom, just let me play organized sports that will inevitably lead to broken bones.
But won't he most likely be the one breaking some other kid's bones? Imagine a cool, fall evening and the voice on the loudspeaker: "Number 56, linebacker Vake Martin, with another tackle at the line of scrimage. Wait, the tailback isn't getting up. It looks like there is an injury on the field." Just thinking about it makes me woozy with anticipation.
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