Wednesday, March 16, 2011

the soccer monster.

S is practically grown now. She'd probably fit right in at Colgate, though she'd admittedly have trouble getting a drink at the Old Stone Jug. (That's a place, right?) Maybe I'm being overly dramatic. I'm prone to that. In reality, she just had her first soccer practice last night. Getting my baby strapped into shin guards was weird. Putting her in cleats was extra weird. Implementing the "no cleats in the car" rule that I grew up with was extra super weird. Last night, it was tough to see her growing up. Today, we're back to sending her to preschool so she can learn more about the letter "U." Maybe it's not time for Colgate after all.

Anyway, here's the play-by-play for S's soccer debut.
  • My brother Drew is her coach. Through no instruction of ours, she calls him "Coach Andrew," which is funny because mostly she calls him "My Drewsey."
  • We had a crazy search around the house and car before practice last night because we couldn't find her "purple soccer headband." Learn from my mistake. Never tell your four-year-old that a particular headband is for a particular function. It's like losing a lovey. Luckily, I found it and the whole soccer season isn't in the crapper.
  • When Drew had the kids introduce themselves, most of the kids were reserved. S proclaimed, "And I am S," and she honest-to-God curtsied. Then she told everyone she was going to be a princess when she grows up. No doubt, kid.
  • It was cold at practice last night. I sent S in shorts anyway because she's hot natured. All the other kids were bundled up tight, as were their parents. And all the kiddos and parents were complaining about the cold. Not S. Because she's the soccer monster. And soccer monsters are tough as nails. Nails, I tell you.
  • Here's the breakdown of our team: S is the tallest and hottest. Her fave friend SR is the tiniest and the coldest. She ran to either me or her mother begging to get warmed up every three minutes. Our buddy L is the thirstiest. He'd run onto the field, kick the ball, then run back for a drink. I don't know the other three kids who were there, but one is almost as tall as S, one is the hacker, and the other has no distinguishing trait thus far.
  • At the end of practice (very loose interpretation of the term practice, by the way), Drew huddled the kids up. S interrupted him every four seconds. Sincerely. She wanted to talk about the team's name. They'll have gold jerseys, and she thinks that they should call themselves the Gold Heroes. She wants to be Hero Stella. Drew could not get a word in edgewise. We had to have a talk with her about that on the way home. I'm afraid he'll kick her off the team if she keeps it up. Who am I kidding? She's the Soccer Monster*. Any coach would want her!!
Next week, I believe Drew is breaking out the orange cones and having them do something other than run around chasing balls. That'll be a trip. Then her first game is next Saturday. It will be awesome...until she realizes that there's Gatorade and snacks on the sidelines. Then we'll have lost her.

*Here's how she got that awesome nickname. The straps at the top of her shin guards don't really fit properly, and the velcro digs into her calves. I cut two small pieces of flannel to put underneath to keep it from irritating her. When I realized that I needed to do this, we needed to be in the car on the way to practice, so I didn't have a chance to dig through the fabric store that is my attic. However, I had some flannel next to the sewing machine to make burp cloths for T. It has monsters all over it. S looked at it like I'd lost my mind when I tried to put it near her body. After all, this is the child that would totally wear a tiara and fairy wings to practice if I'd let her. Then I explained to her that it makes her "My Little Soccer Monster." She bought it, and when she's the captain of the US Women's Soccer team, Soccer Monster licensed apparel will be all the rage with little girls across the country :)

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