So we left. No drama. No crying or anger. Just done. It was cool.
I laughed with two girlfriends on Thursday night that it looked like soccer was coming to an end for us. I couldn't in good conscience allow him to keep messing with his teammates by belly flopping on their balls as they practiced and yelling "Not today!" or getting tangled up in the goal net on purpose. Thirty times a practice.
Maybe forty. Probably forty.
And then of course there was the barking at the other kids. That made for some uncomfortable scuffles. And his general lack of care about the rules was pulling me toward pulling him.
He wasn't ready.
But he wanted to go back. He knows now that after church is soccer. So today he says to me, "Yay! Next we go to soccer!" and I smiled. I thought to myself, "Yep soccer. Probably the last one". But I said to him, "Do you want to go?" and he looked at me like I was nuts. "YES! Mom! I play soccer, ok?". "Suuuuure you will, bud." I thought to myself. "Ok!", I said to him. "We will go to soccer. I'd love to see you go and kick that ball around, dude".
We arrive. He promptly log rolls down the field before the game begins and barks at a few people. This kid.
I couldn't love him more. He will not be defined.
The game starts. And he decides that instead of playing, he will "stick his butt up in da ay-er! (air)".
I let them fall without resistance. I smiled through them. They were cheering for my boy.
It wasn't perfect. There was some on the field sitting.
See you at practice on Wednesday, Blue Dragons!
You kicked ass today, buddy. I am sure that I will never forget your face as you came of the field. I saw it. I saw the pride you felt. And that face? That face was just the best. The. Best.