I wanted to play softball. Rec softball. I loved sports. I was no superstar, but that didn't matter. I just wanted to be out there.
Mom said nope. Why? Because she didn't want to have to drive me to practice or games. Not that she had anything better to do. She was a stay-at-home mom in those days. She nevertheless let me know that she was not "your chauffer."
So softball wasn't happening.
I do have a vague recollection of playing soccer when I was really young, and maybe one ballet class. It all ended before I was really into it. Before I really wanted it.
Maybe it was because I was a third child. Maybe she was too worn out by the first two, though come to think of it, they didn't do much sports either.
I guess that's why I encourage my kids to do whatever activity they'd like. It's funny, though: Sawyer isn't really all that excited about anything, while Sage, who's sat through all of Sawyer's swimming lessons, tee ball and soccer games, couldn't wait for her turn.
She's been in dance for almost a year and loves it. And she finally, finally is old enough to do some soccer. This past week I took her to her first soccer camp. It was just an hour a day for a week.
First objective: look as cute as possible.
That accomplished, she really loved the whole thing. At least, at first she did. Each kid got their own ball and all they had to do was practice dribbling that first day. She and I kicked the ball to each other. She's actually pretty good.
Enjoy the happy pictures. Cause it didn't last.
The coach tried to organize them into a game. Problem was, most of the kids had no clue what was going on - except for a boy who was almost five. He got the ball and never let go. Oh, and that ball? Yeah, the coach decided to use Sage's for the game. She proceeded to burst into tears because all the other kids were playing with HER ball.
So David retrieved it. She still wanted nothing to do with the game. She wasn't the only one. This little guy (the camp was for ages 3-4) then tried to dribble, and the ball went out ahead and the big kid got it - causing the little one to also start bawling.
It was ugly. I decided Sage and I needed to have the talk about No Crying in Soccer. Xander also listened attentively to my speech.
Luckily, the hour was up. The good thing was she was happy to go back the next day. And the coach was smart enough not to try a game again. Wednesday, the coach did a drill which he threw all the balls in the middle, and the kids had to run backwards or crawl or whatever out to the balls, then dribble back.
Sage at one point got knocked down by another kid. She sat on the ground for a second, then got up and kept going. She was SO proud that she was being so tough. Adding to her confidence was the fact she was the only kid who could actually skip to the middle.
It's a funny age. There was a little boy who wet his pants and spent an entire session lying on the grass. Another one plopped down on his butt in the middle of the field and sucked his thumb.
Sage's ony issue was her gnat-like attention span. Hey, the coach was British, half of the adults had no clue what he was saying.
Otherwise, she had fun. The best news? She's ready for her next camp - soccer and tee ball - in another week.
Maybe that's not the best news. Even better is she's having fun. I'll drive her anywhere for that.
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