Just Get in the Game, Baby!

Tuesday afternoon. Bright sunshine and lots of fresh, angelic 4- and 5-year-old faces. Shin guards and shiny new soccer balls. Bedford's Preschool Soccer. Matt was so excited to go, because he's all for running around and kickin' a ball, and it thrills him that his neighborhood buddies attend as well. The moms just sit on the sidelines watching the little ones scramble around the field, some fully into it, and some (like mine on this particular day), eyeing the nearby playground and wondering when they can make a break for it. My young "Ferdinand," stopping to smell the roses...or the ragweed.

Another one of my childhood favorites!



20 minutes into the lesson, Matt was done, and he sat down on the field, looking around and holding his own against any one of the young coaches who approached him, trying to encourage his participation. Just like the gentle bull in one of my childhood favs, he was far more interested in the feel of the grass, the blue sky, and yes, the pretty blond female coach who'd occasionally indulge him by walking around the field hand-in-hand (he's such a "player").

I give the kid credit: when he's made up his mind, he really can't be swayed. And as much as I hate to admit it, I was bothered by it. Not that he wasn't the star of the lesson, but that he was choosing not to be involved. Yes, I get that this is what preschoolers do (though I do have to remind myself of that). And no, it's not about my caring whether he truly learns the skills involved in running a ball down the length of a field and scoring a goal. I could care less (or couldn't care less ... you know what I mean) if my child is athletically inclined. I just want him to never hold back. To never fear participating because he's not the best. I just want him to get in the game.