Posted on April 30, 2012
May has been dragged out to the soccer field, two seasons a year, since birth. It’s all she’s ever known. She’s a mean dribbler and will try to steal the ball from anyone of any age or size.
She’s talked about the singular unfairness of being forced to be on the sidelines while she watches her siblings play for a year now.
“I wanna play soccah. When is my soccah team?”
Finally, she’s turned 3 years old and can start the James Island Rec Center’s Smart Start Soccer program.
Saturday was her first clinic, and after all the begging and whining, she refused to have anything to do with it. Total bummer. Finally I figured out that she hated the shin guards, so I took them off, and it was Go Time.
Pre-scrimmage pep talks from her “sistuh” and “bwudduh.” She sounds like a mini Joe Pesci.
She brought her cherished ball. I finally had to just take it off the field. It wasn’t the other kids’ fault that they were going for the acid green ball in a sea of plain white rec center issue balls, but it was making her crazy. Gotta work on sharing.
“Take my ball once, shame on you.”
“Take my ball twice, shame on me!”
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