End of Spring 2018 Soccer
The Boy finished his second season of soccer. It was a successful season, no doubt. Talking to the coach during Monday's practice, I heard the kind of praise about one's child that parents dream of. "He's really got something," he said. "He plays thoughtfully. He watches. He thinks. He doesn't just barge in. He waits for a moment." This jives with E's own description of his strategy: "I just run around the edge [of the pack of children all trying to gain access to the ball] and wait for a good moment."
(Click on the images for a larger view.)
After the game, spring planting. The Girl decided she wanted to help. Wanted to drive the stakes that will hold our simple borders in place. Wanted to rake the soil one last time. Wanted to put the young plants in the ground.
(Click on the images for a larger view.)
The Boy, just having woken up from a nap, had to fight for his right to drive a few stakes in...
Friday Afternoon and Evening
Returning to the Old
Looking at old photos.
Found a few that needed Lightroom attention.
Attention given.
Herding
We took Clover for her first intermediate-level training session tonight. I was a little worried about it: we've been neglecting her training, and I thought for the first few minutes that the Dog might not be up to par with the other students in terms of obedience. Once she calmed down a bit though -- she's always so excited around new dogs -- she did just fine.
The trainer, who was a different young lady from the trainer who led us through the beginner training, mentioned that she used to train Border Collies almost exclusively. K and I looked at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.
After class, we asked her about some of Clover's issues, specifically her continued nipping. She explained that we needed to provide her with a way to exercise that instinct -- she is a herding breed, after all -- in play and not with us. She suggested using a yoga ball. "It's too big for her to get her mouth around, so she can't pop it. But it's big enough that she can nose it around, which is what she needs."
L just happens to have a yoga ball. It's now Clover's.
In short, she went wild. She pushed that silly ball all over the backyard, nipping at it, herding it.
Spring Evening
Sunday Evening Downtown
K and I left the kids with the grandparents and headed downtown for some dinner and a walk. It's one of those things that we keep putting off, and as soon as we do it, I find myself thinking, "Dang, we ought to do this more often." We could skip dinner for all I care and just have the walk and the chat.
Greenville has really grown in the last eleven years. The downtown park has expanded and what was once simply wild space next to the park has been incorporated and cultivated enough to make it look like a park but left wild enough to still make you think, "Is this really just a few hundred meters from the heart of downtown?"
With all the cold weather of late, I think everyone in the county was eager to get outside at some point this weekend, and what better time than the last few hours of the weekend?
This week we're staring down is the first of May, and May has always been a rough month for us. E's birthday, end-of-school activities at school, Memorial Day -- it all piles up.
Soccer and the New Garden
Every kid needs a break-out game, a moment when he shines like a professional player who hits the grand slam in the bottom of the ninth to overcome a three-run deficit or scores the winning goal in overtime. E had his today. The first half was relatively calm. No score, no real threats. The big scorer from a couple of weeks ago couldn't work his magic, and although E's team kept the ball in the opponent's half of the field most of the time, they'd been unable to convert anything to a goal.
In the beginning of the third quarter (little kids' soccer is divided into quarters, not halves), E broke out of the pack of kids that always hovers around the ball, drove down half the field, and scored. All the parents were cheering for him as he broke through, and I sat thinking, "Please, let him make this. It could change everything." It wasn't that I was thinking about winning the game. I just knew that such a spectacular play could really boost his confidence. Shortly after that, he did it again. High fives from everyone. A big smile from the Boy.
During the fourth quarter, the Boy initially sat. He was not at all upset about it: he was panting, sweaty, and positively glowing. A few minutes into the quarter, though, one of the boys on E's team wandered off the field and decided he didn't want to play anymore.
"E!" the coach called out. We found him practicing in the area by the field and sent him back in. "Come on, superstar," said our tough-love coach.
The fourth quarter saw a turnaround. Twice a player from the other team broke through; twice the Boy chased the opponent down and got in front of him/her to try to stop the goal; twice the opponent scored on the Boy. He'd been trying each time to get far enough ahead of the attacker to turn and defend like a goalie (we don't play with goalies at this level), and there was just not enough time for him to make the transition.
So instead of winning 2-0 it was a 2-2 tie. Perhaps that's better. The Boy was still the star and everyone went home happy.
No pictures, though, because I left the camera at home. "Ah, we have tons of pictures from this year," I mumbled as we walked out.
The rest of the day we spent at home. Tilling, raking, spreading manure, peat moss, and compost, tilling again. It was an exhausting but rewarding day.
After School Friday
I come home from school some Fridays, and I only want to do one thing: get the grading done for the weekend. Those Fridays are very few and infrequent. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I’ve done that. In fact, I’ve been leaving my weekend grading (articles of the week, anyway) at school to work through Monday and Tuesday.
Other Fridays, I come home and help K with the cleaning. She’s always trying to get the bathrooms done Friday afternoon because she has enough work in the house Saturday that any dint will help.
Sometimes, I come home to find everyone in the backyard. I make a cup of coffee and join them.
Today, I came home and mowed. With a soccer game tomorrow and plans to remake our garden, albeit, in a new location, I knew mowing might be tricky tomorrow, so I got the mower out while K made dinner, and much to my surprise, I got it all done before dinner. Well, the front yard, anyway.
After dinner, a quick trip to Home Depot to pick up a tiller to break the ground for our new garden. The Boy chatted up the sales clerk as he tried to show me how to operate the machine, and he was ready to load the thing himself until he heard how loud it was.
“Maybe I can get the first tilling done before we head to the game in the morning,” I’d said during dinner, but when the Boy and I got back and, with a bit of help from our neighbor, got the tiller unloaded, I decided, “Why wait?”
“Hey, E, want to do some tilling?”
He dropped what he was doing and ran for his work boots.
We walked up and down the stretch of lawn by our driveway — the sunniest place on our lot except for the front yard — several times, with a couple of breaks for the Boy to empty his boots.
Once we were all done, the Boy had one request, one simple desire: “Daddy, can I run in the dirt without shoes?”
And then he stepped on a rock…
Up and Down
In the morning, we had the school talent show.
A time for the Girl to shine, a time that brought applause and high fives.
The evening brought the second and final round of the Battle of the Books. The girls got in on a wildcard, and they were terribly excited about the prospect of being able to win the whole thing.
They were asked to lead the Pledge of Allegiance at the start of the competition, and everyone laughed that it was definitely a good sign.
They were up against the school that, in their minds, was the favorite to win the whole thing. The first round went quickly: seven questions to each, no mistakes from anyone. But these were the easy questions — they questions they’d been given before. “The practice questions” the judge called them. And it showed: very little consultation for each question from either side.
Round two featured questions that they’d never heard. Gone were the immediate answers. The teams sat huddled talking about each question, and after our girls gave their answer, the tension immediately increased as we waited for the magical words: “That is correct.” Everyone trying to read into the judge’s body language, tone, facial expression. A slight pause from the judge and everyone thinks, “No! We got it wrong!” only to have that assumption mercifully shattered: “That is correct.”
And then it happens: we get a question wrong. The other team swoops in for the bonus points (3 instead of 5) for answering it correctly.
“Now team B will get their next question.” Everyone knows what this means: there’s only one way for our girls to continue. The other team has to get this question wrong, and they have to get it right to get the bonus points to tie the match. But they get it right. And the girls’ faces all drop.
The winning team comes over and shows perfect sportsmanship:
But that does little to take the sting out.
Afterward, the girls talk about the answer and they’re sure their answer was just as correct as the other team’s, but it’s for naught.
Or is it?
There’s much to gain from losing, and perhaps even more from losing unfairly. If losing builds character, as they say, unfairly losing builds even more.