That’s right, B is now a soccer mom. A had his first soccer practice on Saturday morning. It was quite the sight – 50 or 60 little boys and girls, each with their own ball, running aimlessly around the field.
A was really into it for the first 15 minutes. He chased the coaches, introduced himself to the other members of his team, and listened closely to instructions. I was immensely proud of his maturity and focus. Then, I think it dawned on him that soccer is hard work, with a lot of running.
Dearloves are not known for their stamina, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when he said he was tired and took a 20 minute breather. It was only after he watched other boys scoring goals that he took the field again, and he took great delight in scoring repeatedly at point-blank range. I think the finer points of the game may be lost on him for some time.
Some of the other kids (and parents), seemed to take it all very seriously. My favourite kid was Adam, a small boy with amazing curly blond hair. He was all decked out in his soccer gear – cleats, knee socks, shin pads, and a Rinaldo jersey to top it off. Adam is going to be a soccer machine, but I think I could still take him out with a well-timed slide tackle.
2 thoughts on “I’m Married to a Soccer Mom”
If Soccer Mom is driving a mini-van it’s all over. Hello adulthood.
I was actually going to do an entry on that topic. We still need to get a minivan, pet, and fully-detached house in the suburbs before we become a completely stereotypical middle-class family.