Monday, October 18, 2010

Look into my soccer ball...





I love my son. For a very long time, he was my entire world, and I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Our world has now expanded to include a wonderfully loving stepfather (even though we don't refer to him as that - my son has nearly always called him "Daddy") and a very special baby sister - and we wouldn't change anything about that either.

I try to make things special for my son. So when he asked, or rather, BEGGED, to play soccer on our local Y team this year, I thought to myself "why not?". I've always been of the attitude that I'll let him try anything (okay, anything within reason) once, and if he likes it he can continue with it and if not, then we move on to something else. Now, this interpretation also means that if I sign him up for a season of a sport, he has to FINISH that season - because I also do not believe in quitting. But if he plays out his season and doesn't want to do it again, so be it.

This is our first foray into organized sports. And I use the term organized VERY loosely here. The reality is that for five year olds, "organized" soccer really consists of a group of roughly five boys on each team chasing a soccer ball from one end of the field to the other. There are no positions, there is no goalie, they just run the ball back and forth. And my son, love him to death as I do, has absolutely ZERO athletic ability, as it turns out. You know those little kids who play baseball and just stand in the outfield picking dandelions? Yeah, my son is the soccer equivalent of that. I don't think this is a sport we'll be repeating. But you know what, he says he loves it! So, we just let him play, and take lots of pictures, and we'll take it from there...


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