Ian started soccer this past week. It's the first team sport that he has participated in.
He has spent countless weekday evenings and Saturday mornings sitting on the sidelines watching Isaac play sports over the years. So this is pretty huge for him. Only, we had no idea how huge it would be.
I signed him up a couple of weeks before practice would actually start, and every morning when he woke up, he would ask, "Is it soccer today?". The night before his first practice, he could hardly sleep. It reminded me of my kids on Christmas Eve.
The day of his first game, he could hardly think or talk about anything else. Unfortunately, because of school, I was unable to be there for his first game, so when I walked in the door that night, he came running up to me, with his sweaty little head and yelled all the details of the game at me while I put the car keys and my backpack away. "We won mom! And I scored a goal! I play soccer now! And we won!"
Well, ever since that day, whenever he has a comment to make, it always includes, "I play soccer now." For example, Ian still wants his behind wiped after visiting the porcelain throne, and the other night as he was getting ready for bed, I reminded him to go potty. He said, "I already did, and I went poo." "Who wiped you?", I asked. "I did. I play soccer now. And I won." Simple as that.
If only I had known that putting my son on a team would mature him to the point that he would feel like a man. Wiping his own butt, talking in a slightly deeper voice, he even started shaving and wearing deodorant.
In all actuality, the butt wiping only lasted for a day, no deodorant or shaving, but he really does sweat like a man. And if you ask him about playing soccer, his chest puffs up just a bit.
Here's to a great soccer season that only lasts for 4 weeks! And here's to my little man, who seems to be a lot older these days.