So a little over a week ago, we took a trip back to Missouri. A big reason, but definitely not the only reason, for the trip was to see our oldest grandson wrestle.
We also got to see other family and the guys did some work while they were there too.
I was very excited to see the wrestling matches, but I quickly learned that I really had no idea of the heartbreak that losing a match could cause.
Grampa Juan was trying to get him to watch what was going on on the mats.
Here was the only girl we saw wrestling. She kicked butt.
He thought he would take a picture of me and Papa. He needs a little more practice with the camera huh.
Sittin' on Papa's lap
Coaching from Daddy
And now, out to the mat for his first match.
Look out!
Uh oh. Adrians on the bottom.
Hey, get off him!
Dont let him flip you Bubba!
HEY! Dont push my babys head down like that!
You want this Gramma to come out there!
Aww Match over. Heart Broken. Mine and His
I dont want to lose Mommy
Encouragement from Daddy on the second match
Here we go. I'm holding my breath
Down to the mat
There ya go!
Roll him back over Adrian!
Flatten and pin him!
Aww the other little guy lost. I was so sad for him.
Third place.
He said, "I dont know why I got third place. I only lost twice"
All is good, Pizza and Angry Birds
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