Basketball camp ended today, and not a moment too soon. I don’t think I could have taken much more. My stomach was in knots all week.

Annabelle tried to smile this morning when I said it was time to get ready, but I could tell she was wishing the day was over. At 2:30 I showed up to see her last game, and she really was all smiles, though I’m not sure the ball ever touched her hands.

(Maybe that’s why. I spent my entire career in P.E. avoiding balls. When Ray and I discovered recently that I wasn’t terrified of the badminton birdie, it was a big breakthrough. No kidding.)

After the game, the kids gathered on the court for an awards ceremony. My heart pounded a little. I so wanted Annabelle to get an award for something — and yet, I didn’t. She wasn’t the best at anything technical, that much was clear, and while she was a good sport I don’t imagine she was the best sport. She was pretty obviously biding her time all week.

(And hey, that’s better than I would have done. As I remarked to my father yesterday, I would have thrown up to get out of going at all. Seriously. I spent much of my childhood as a nervous vomiter. Nice.)

The awards concluded, but the ceremony wasn’t quite over. The coaches were motioning a group of girls — the smallest girls — to the front. Annabelle scampered up, a big smile on her face, and the girls did a cheer. Each kid introduced herself, then did a gymnastic move. Oh no, I thought as they got started. Something else Annabelle’s not so good at.

But her cheer was adorable. It went something like this:

“My name is Annabelle! My defense toots! And you’ll know it, because I’m CUTE!”

And she slid neatly into the splits, to loud cheers.

“Did they do that last year?” I asked Mrs. M. “No,” she replied, looking confused. It did seem a bit out of place. But I didn’t care. Annabelle ended the week beaming, and it wasn’t because of some fake award someone tossed at her. She got to feel good in front of her peers, even if it was for a silly little cheer.

For a silly little sport.

(A small addendum, since I wrote this earlier today. I came home this evening and cheekily announced to Annabelle, “Hey, basketball camp called and said you have to come back again tomorrow!”

I instantly regretted — and recanted — my little joke when I saw the look of horror.  A few hours later, I tucked her in and got ready to sing our nightly “Hey Jude,” but before I started I gave her a hug and told her how proud I was of her.

“And don’t worry,” I said, “you never ever have to go back to basketball camp again!”

“I don’t know,” she said, stretching and grinning, almost sheepishly. “I might go again. They really want me to come back.” She rolled over and got her Special Blankie, running her hands over it til she found the right spot to “soft.”

“I don’t have to decide now,” she concluded. “I have a whooooooooooooooole long time to think about it!”

So thank you again, Mrs. M. And good night.)