Oh ye of little faith!
Yes, I do abhor violence. Yes, I do cringe mightily at the sound of a punch. Yes, I did once shed tears at the grand opening of a Target store.
But really, what does any of that have to do with me not being able to watch my crazy handsome first-born participate in a cage fight?
Of course I can watch it. I mean, after all, the kid has been a mixed martial artist for years now. He's wildly disciplined, is in serious training five days a week, eats well, meditates, and gets the importance of massage. He's doing everything right.
And our dear friend, Jay D'Mato of the California Martial Arts Academy...who I trust implicitly with my son's well-being, says Kenny is a beast at 135 pounds.
Really? My son? A beast? I wanted him to be a model but there's plenty of time for that.
What does all this say to me? It says that not only will Kenny win, the other kid doesn't even have a chance of landing a punch. Or a kick. Or one of those headlock things.
What's with the smirking? I tell ya, this is gonna be a breeze to watch!
As a matter of fact, I almost feel sorry for the other kid. I hope he doesn't suffer much at the hands of my son. If I were his mom, I'd be sure to have lots of ice on hand.
Oh...and one more thing. Your kid's gonna need more than ibuprofen...cause my kid's gonna...
Excuse me. I got carried away for a moment there.
That happens I guess. This is probably why Jay has already instructed me that under no circumstances am I to enter the cage.And, if the other kid's mother (or any relative) is sitting nearby and busy with their own cheering, I'm not to say anything along the lines of, "Hey! Do you %$&@#* mind? My boy's trying to concentrate here!"
April - in St. Louis...front and center. I'm there. No matter what.
No matter what.
No matter what.
No matter what.
Oh my gosh, wasn't he a darling baby? And NO! I'm not ready to let go of the modeling thing yet!
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