It’s soccer season. Jake is on the Ninjas. And Nate is on the Thunder Bears.
Fortunately or unfortunately, neither team is quite as menacing as they may sound.
The games consist almost entirely of a swarm of kids kicking the ball past an unsuspecting goalie. Generally ours. There are an inordinate number of stuntman-esque falls, like bowling pins. It looks more like rugby than soccer. Balls bounce up and kids reflexively catch them. Our coach finally realized that he needs to begin every quarter with a very direct, physical and mentally complex exercise called: Which Way Are We Going?
Despite their aggressive, rough and tumble nature, both my sons choose to avoid the fray. They’re generally put in defense. Jake can turn up the speed and come at the threat sideways… kicking it away in the nick of time. But then he’s tired from sprinting and feels compelled to stay where the coach placed him. Nate can also gear himself up to kick the ball away from an oncoming offender… but I see him getting distracted easily. He’s always looking at the referee or listening to the grown-ups on the sidelines. Most of the time his back is turned to the ball.
On Saturday, Jacob’s old teacher, Miss Amy, and her husband Nick, met us at the soccer field. James was taking them out to look at some houses. I was describing how the game went… something to the effect of, “It’s definitely bunch ball. A lot of running and falling and butterfly watching. But it’s really fun and funny.”
And Nate says in support of my description, nodding importantly, “Mommy, Mommy. I was watching a butterfly.” Continued adamant nodding, “I was.”