Sebastian’s last soccer game was Saturday, which makes me sadder than I thought it would. Soccer doesn’t seem to be his game, to put it mildly. But it was nice to do some normal, organized kid stuff with him for the first time.
The challenges with soccer were numerous, but the worst was the overzealous opposing teams, coaches, and fans. You guys, they’re FOUR. They’re not even keeping SCORE so you don’t have to throw a victory parade every time one of your kids kicks the ball into our unmanned goal.
Our six-kid team was made up of some kids with challenges like Sebastian’s, and some non-special-needs kiddos. They were all 3- or 4-year-olds, though, which means they are all equally free of marbles in their noggins. That said, most of them showed major improvement over the course of the season, especially our li’l guy.
And I think he liked it, if only because it was some good one-on-one Mommy/Daddy time which has been in shorter supply since Henry came to town.
But still, it was hard for him until the bitter end. Steve and I took turns taking him, and Steve said at yesterday’s game he laid down in the middle of the field and rested his head on his folded hands and pretended to be asleep. How adorable yet pitiful!
I think the problem is he just didn’t really understand what’s going on. I’ve watched him stand there as a mob of kids kicks the ball past him and I know that look on his face well — you might as well translate it as “What the fresh hell?”
One great thing that has come out of his playing soccer is that it gave me the idea and the courage to get him involved in karate, which I will save for another day’s topic because this blogging-every-day thing is a mess o’ trouble.
And as he gets older and can figure out that BALL + GOAL = YAY, maybe soccer is something we can try again.