The Movement: Soccer Insanity

I can just hear the conversation of our soccer coach with his wife upon his return from our first practice.

"How did your first practice go tonight, dear?" (In my head the dialogue is similar to an episode of 'Leave It To Beaver'--dunno why.)

"It went super. Except for this one boy," he says, removing his cleats and putting on his slippers (brown corduroy of course).

"Tell me about it dear," she replies while handing him a cocktail, sitting beside him to enjoy one herself.

"Well, he kept making super-hero flying noises and gun shots when kicking or running. And when he made a good shot, or kicked the ball further than two inches, he would stand," Coach said, consternation crinkling his kind eyes.

"Golly, he would just stand there?" wife replied, sipping her cocktail and marveling at what a concerned and wonderful coach her man is (while also admiring her fresh pedicure through her cute and comfy peep toe pumps).

"Yes, he would stand there with his hand in the air waiting to do a high five. After every, single, long kick. He's shaping up to be quite a character!"

"I agree."

Sip, sip. Hug, hug. and SCENE.

Yes, my five year old entered the world of organized sports. I said to the other Mommy present, "Today is the first day of a life time of practices, games, sports, uniforms, equipment, fund raisers, etc."

I was on the sidelines with the whole fam. Dad, me, Pappy and the baby all stood watching our little quirky five year old make his sports debut. And what a debut.

He only made one of the children cry. This is an unfortunate side effect from playing full contact soccer with Daddy for years.

He only fell down once. With aplomb he got right up and promptly ran over the ball.

He made sound effects. For everything. RRRRRRRR-BOOM-NEEE NER, NEEE NER.

He drank his whole water bottle, after 10 minutes of practice.

He only grabbed his pee pee twice. As opposed to the every three minute check he normally does.

He insisted on hugging the kid who made a great goal.

He was scared of and run over by the 'big girl' (i.e. the first grader who was a couple inches taller than him and quickly earning the moniker "girlie Pele").

The soccer insanity has begun.