Ok. My goal has been to write a new post at least once a week until I get caught up from my writing hiatus. Last week, I got Asher’s birthday post up, so technically my next post should be about the Rodeo. But I just have to break from the backlog for a moment and write about something current. Soccer.
For the spring, we offered a season of soccer to both kids. Asher gave us a prompt and decisive “yes,” while Isla gave us a prompt and decisive “no!” We tried to persuade her, but it’s Isla. Resistance is futile. Despite her personal disinterest, she seemed genuinely excited for Asher. Add to that Asher’s own excitement and we were all set to begin a new chapter- soccer with a small person.
I know it’s a parental rite of passage, supporting little kids through their venture into team sports. I’ve watched other families with this, and I have a confession to make, I’ve sort of dreaded it. Just couldn’t quite imagine feeling gung-ho about these sweet little kids, so clearly too young to “get it” with all the various sports. I’m also just not the sportiest person in the world- big shock, right? How would I handle the aggression, the competition? And I’m talking about the other parents.
I cast all those nagging feelings aside, though, and put on my happy face for Asher. I didn’t have to fake it for very long. Asher alone is an adorable, melt-your-heart kind of kid. Asher plus shinguards and shorts just slightly too short takes it to the next level. Then the league asked for parent coaching volunteers, Elliot became Asher’s team’s coach, and I’m now basically in a constant state of swoon.
Elliot is a natural with the kids. Asher is happy and determined. And the rest doesn’t matter. But just for the record, in case you’re the keeping score type, they totally won their first game.