matching tracksuits

This afternoon we had the annual kids/parents soccer game to wrap up another season of soccer.

"Are you going to play?" the Boy asked.

"Of course!" Though "playing" might be somewhat hyperbolic. I have no skills to speak of, and I have no fitness to make up for it either. But I did play at the game.

I learned two things: first, I'm terribly out of shape. Since K has been staying with Nana and Papa to take care of them (alternating weeks since February, then about four or five weeks ago, every week), I don't get out to exercise that much. I use the excuse of not wanting to leave the kids in the house alone, but that's really just an excuse, I think.

The second was something that followed off of the first: when you're in such bad shape and have no skills, if you're playing kids, you can pass it off by playing like all the other parents did when we were up X-0 (can't remember the actual score): just letting the kids win...

Afterward, off to Nana's and Papa's for dinner. There won't be too many more times that we do that, though. The addition is nearing completion. "Two more weeks," we say, but we've been saying that for a month already. But still, we only have a few more times.

After dinner, we had a little boys' time, as E called it. We decided to do our normal exploring around the drainage basin at the northeastern corner of Nana's and Papa's development's property. It was a little overgrown as spring takes hold, but nothing like I was expecting. Perhaps the last time we go there? Who knows.

A brilliant morning -- sunlight everywhere.

Last soccer game of the year. The Boy was excited about it -- not because he was excited to play, but because he was excited to be done.

"Do I have to go?" has become something of a refrain before soccer practice and before games.

"You committed to it," I always explain, "so you're going to see it through to the end. We keep our word; we finish what we start."

When I watch his play, I understand why he's not crazy about soccer: he's among the youngest in his age group, and he's lacking some of the confidence that other players on his team have. He prefers playing defense for this reason: all he has to do is stop someone, which means just kicking the ball away from them (in his mind). That's easier than attacking, when two or three are on you trying to get the ball from you -- not to mention your team mates who, despite calls from the coach to realize that they're "same team!" and instructions to "spread out," are swarming all around you as well.

So after today, a break. Until L's volleyball season starts up again...