It's offical. I am now a real, honest to goodness soccer mom from the mini-van right down to the kid in cleats.
Earlier this summer we heard that the local soccer clubs had instructional leagues for the preschool set. Bruce and I agreed. When the kids got old enough to really be 'joining' things it was going to be their choice, not ours. We let it slide. Didn't even mention it. We didn't want him to think we were urging him or 'hinting.' When he came to us asking to play, we'd discuss it.
He plays soccer in the backyard with Dad. Up and down the backyard. Passing the ball. Kicking the ball. Sometimes guarding the net. He loves it.
One recent day he said to me, quite matter of factly, "I want to play soccer."
And I said, quite naively, "With Daddy after dinner or with me now?"
He looked at me like I had four heads. "I do want to play with you and Daddy, but I mean I want to play on a team with kids my age."
I was dumbstruck. Huh? Team? Kids? Organized sports? You're 4. I mean really? You want a team?
The best I could do in response was, "Oh yeah? When?"
He shrugged. "When I'm a bit older and they have teams for me."
It's been nagging at me. Those last words he left me with - when they have teams for me. They do, I wanted to say, but I didn't.
I thought we were past the registration deadline. I didn't want to get his hopes up. I finally got online today to check. Deadline was extended to August 31st. We conferred. We agreed. I sat him down and asked if he really wanted to play. He beamed. I mean the boy practically glowed.
"Yes!" he said with the largest smile I may have ever seen on his face. The smile so big traces of it continued to linger around his mouth all day long. All. Day. Long. The boy is giddy with anticipation. He even giggled.
So I did it. I signed him up. His first game is September 9th. He has 20 minutes of instruction and 20 minutes of a skirmage amongst his team mates. 10 little 4 year old boys out to have fun and learn how to kick a ball without nailing each other in the shins. . .or something like that.
He even gets a uniform. And cleats. And shin guards.
Did I mention he's still giddy?
Did I mention *I* am? I'm so excited for him. My little trigger finger is practically itching to get all the photos of him in uniform...and in action.
I'm a soccer mom now. And some how it's yet to make me gag.