The Back Table

One of my all-time favorite games to play as a kid was Kick the Can. Basically, there is one person who is "it," and everybody else hides. Once you're found, you have to go to the "prison" (base) and hope and pray that someone rescues you by touching the can or ball before the person who's "it" does. Playing the game, I remember hiding and the feeling of not wanting to leave my spot. I didn't want to risk being found or caught and then have to take the walk of shame to the porch. But I also remember feeling a stronger pull to get up and rescue some people. Hiding always felt like a waste of time, like I was missing all the excitement. Every once in a while someone would be hidden so well that a couple games would go by and they wouldn't even realize it. They couldn't hear everyone screaming that the game was over and everyone who was caught was rescued. That was the worst feeling, and it happened to me at least once or twice. I love the

This past fall my six-year-old daughter, Morgan, joined a soccer team for the first time. If you've ever seen my daughter, you know that she's petite - in the two percentile to be exact. With sports, she's got to work a little harder than the average to compete. When we showed up to the first practice equipped with shin guards, water bottle, and a shiny pink and white soccer ball, I wasn't sure what to expect, as she would be playing with girls that were older and bigger than her. But when we stepped out of the car, it was like releasing a dog in an open field for the first time. I just kind of stood there and watched as she made her way to the field, a little caught off guard by her excitement and courage. With only a few more games left in the season, Morgan was the only girl on the team who hadn't scored a goal, and I could tell it was starting to bother her a little bit. And that bothered me. As I watched from the sideline, I would try to help her by air kicking