So yeah, the rest of the week of firsts.
A million years ago, I wrote about how excited I was that the Big Kid was finally able to play soccer (the post also included an ancient and not-so-flattering photo of me at 5, when I played soccer. Check it out for a good laugh). It was a toddler/preschool soccer program, awesome for learning skills but not a real league, with games and such.
This kid is a soccer player. He’s on a league and they have games and they play other teams (when they show up) and they get real, awesome, logo-ed uniforms that include socks and shorts. Holy shit you guys, we’re in the big time.
Now, they don’t actually keep score and no one wins or loses (because it’s how you play the game guys…duh) and it’s three on three but it’s amazebalz. With only six kids on the field at any given time (two players one goalie) it cuts down on the bunch ball a LOT and is so.totally.awesome.
I sat on the sidelines and tried to not to yell and scream too much (because, 5 year olds) but I found that innate soccer mom coming out in me. I was competitive (in a non-competitive league) I wanted my kid to score, to get the ball, to KILL KILL KILL. Oh um, I mean, go teamwork and sportsmanship and holy shit, is that MY kid out there trying to slide tackle? Whoops. Perhaps a little too much World Cup for HIM.
But every missed goal made me feel like we were in the last World Cup game all over again. Each time he stole the ball (from another Kindergardener) and got a breakaway I wanted to grab the person next to me and shake her and say, OMFGMYKIDAAAAAAAAAGOGOGOGOGO!!!
I restrained myself but DAMN.
The soccer mom is strong in this one.
Are your kids playing sports? Do you find yourself getting REALLY into it?