Soccer

This fall, I officially became a soccer mom. First the minivan and now this. 

Elle wanted to play soccer in the YMCA league with her friend Grace, so we obliged and she tackled her first season of competitive sports. Ok, sports of any kind. It's hard to say whether she'll turn out to be the athletic type, but I think she had fun and she clearly enjoyed basking in the Dragons' undefeated status. Regardless of how much actual input she had in the team's success.

It sounds ludicrous to say, but I think she was at a significant disadvantage starting so late (yes, apparently 5 is late in the soccer prodigy world), as most of the other players had a year or two of experience, and at least understood the rules. Some appeared to be middle schoolers masquerading as 5-6 year olds, both in size and athletic prowess, and at the very least the rest had grasped concepts like which way to kick the ball and the difference between offense and defense. So it took most of the season for E to get it, and even at the end I'm not sure she fully understands that, when on defense, she doesn't necessarily have to stay planted in the spot Coach placed her in. Let me tell you though, she guarded that 6 x 6 inch square of grass with her life.

My job for most of the early practices and games was to make sure E was not sitting in the grass analyzing flowers or chasing butterflies on the field. I never played soccer, so my coaching advice was often met with skeptical glances or chuckles from the more experienced parents. Apparently my understanding of the term "off-sides" is a bit distorted. 

Elise loved eating snacks cheering on her big sister, and tried to rush the field whenever possible. During practice, the coach would ask the team, "Everywhere we go, we what?", and little E always responded enthusiastically, "RUN!"

Then there was the fateful day when Elle got chosen to play goalie for the final quarter of one of the last games of the season. My heart dropped into my duodenum when I saw it happening. She doesn't have a clue what to do! They're going to kill her! I envisioned an onslaught of rapid-fire shots pummeling my melodramatic sensitive firstborn, and the impassioned meltdown that would surely ensue. But, largely thanks to a 6-foot-tall 6-year-old beast of a stopper, no goals were scored on her watch. She even made one fantastic sliding save, with only the minor caveat that the ball was headed way out of bounds and she had to run about 20 feet out of the goal to "save" it behind the sidelines. Still, the crowd cheered. With some creative editing, that could make the SportsCenter highlights reel. 

So far, she says she wants to do it again next year... although when asked what her favorite thing about soccer was, the answer is unfailingly "the snacks".