This reminds me of the time we ate at Charlie Trotter's in Chicago. It was an anniversary, I believe. Yes, it was. [Here please let me interject that I know and agree that Charlie Trotter is a vile meat eater, but let's just let that slide for the moment.] Anyway. At least back then, Charlie's mom worked for him as a... sort of hostess/greeter. If you wanted, after your meal, she would walk you through a brief tour of the restaurant and tell you about her son. I remember watching her and listening and her pride in her son's accomplishments was so clear and sweet to see, and he clearly cared very much about her to let her represent him like that when there was no real need to do so.
And now I see this picture of Moz' mum, and she's got exactly the same look on her face as Mrs. Trotter did. She's ecstatic that her son is doing the thing that makes him most happy, and is successful at it.
You may know that I have two sons, and I worry constantly about those little asses. I desperately hope that I am doing things right, and someday I might have the opportunity to stand next to my boy and watch him see his dreams come true.
If anyone knows exactly what it is I need to do to make sure this day comes, please let me know. Because right now I am flying blind. But then, aren't all parents?