The Big Day Has Arrived

Sports were a significant part of my childhood. I played baseball and ran track and did ballet and tap and even hula dancing when we lived in Hawaii. But mostly, I played soccer. A lot of soccer. For a lot of years.

I sort of forget about that now, because sports are no longer a significant part of my life. But they're about to re-enter my life in the form of my suddenly enormous son:

And his smaller sidekick, who refuses to believe he is not also playing soccer. (He is not.)

Cubby has his first-ever soccer practice tonight at 6 p.m. He is very excited, although also nervous. I've done my best to coach him on passing and dribbling and shooting on a goal and not touching the ball with his hands. And, of course, making sure he's appropriately attired.

Suitably sporty clothing courtesy of Nana*; shin guards, cleats, and ball courtesy of me. The matching colors were totally unintentional, but strangely pleasing.

The practice starts at pretty much Jack's bedtime, but I have to take him with me to the field. Plus Charlie, who is going to be very unhappy when he realizes he can't get on the field with Cubby. A. is going to meet us there after work to help wrangle the non-soccer-playing children. The logisitics of getting this one child to his one activity are kind of exhausting. Plus, it's supposed to be about 85 degrees with choking humidity. 

But excitement is still running high. Wish us luck.

* Who is now--a mere six days post-surgery--doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, and making dinner with the help of her "knee scooter," whatever that is. You really can't keep a good woman down.