My parents made us play a sport every season.
Not because they were some crazy, over achieving, drill sergeant parents; but so that we wouldn't be stuck in the house all the time like: "I'm bored, I'm bored, watch me play with my face, I'm bored, I'm bored...."
Last week I decided it was time to introduce Lovebug to a team sport; (translation: there was a free soccer clinic, and I needed a before nap time activity).
I should also mention that I played on a travel league for a good portion of my childhood (before converting to a cheerleader, because that makes sense)...
So I was more than a little excited to see my main man get after it... or, do whatever it is three year olds do when they play soccer.
Which as it turns out... is not a lot of actual soccer.
There were kids laying on the floor, kids crying, kids dancing, kids moving the goals and cones... it was kiddie soccer and non-soccer mayhem.
Lovebug loved every minute of the chaos and had a freaking ball (no pun intended).
I really enjoyed being a fly on the wall, too... I learned that:
A) He does not understand that no hands, means no hands.
NOT: run, pick up the ball, run across the gym, put it down in front of the goal, and kick it as hard as you can.
I was super proud.
Not like: "Sign him up for a scholarship, he is mini Pele"....
But; you know, I was happy to see him doing well at something that had been such a big part of my youth.
Truth is, I had to try really hard to be good at soccer, not like my sister, who was just naturally freaking awesome at it...
So seeing Lovebug kick the ball correctly, and even dribbling a little bit without anyone teaching him how; really got me excited for him.
I wasn't the least bit surprised that he had a hard time focusing, I mean he is three, after all.
I was actually really happy that he kept getting side tracked thinking about basketball; the more things that he is interested in, the better my chances are of being able to coach one of his teams...
Or ALL of his teams!!
(((Can't. Cut. The. Cord.)))