That’s when winter soccer sessions start up, and it can’t get here fast enough. I fondly remember that day, lo those many 20 days ago, when fall soccer ended. “How nice it will be,” I said to myself, “to have a bit of a break from twice a week practice and games every Saturday.” And oh, the plans I had. Not just for tennis, which is Simon is enjoying very much, but also for extra reading time, less rushed homework, and more family togetherness.
Fool!
That lasted about three days. Then soccer balls began ricocheting off every surface in my house. I used to think it was annoying when Simon kicked the ball into our storage cube or couch. Now I long for that level of potential destruction.
These days, the ball is going off of tables, chairs, door-frames, and pretty much every surface of my home. Chairs get pulled out from our table to make a series of numbered goals. The ball is being kicked shoulder height onto walls so Simon can try to catch it on his knee and then back-heel it to himself before getting around an opponent (or chair) and scoring.
Bang! Thump! Crash!
That’s on top of the constant running, spinning, and ball juggling. Simon is reminding me of a marathon runner in the taper week: His body having become accustomed to a level of exercise it is no longer getting, he is fairly jumping out of his skin in search of an outlet.
I could come down harder on the ball inside. You may even say I should come down harder. But honestly, I know a losing battle when I see one, and I have no desire to yell at my otherwise obedient and delightful child. Nope. I’m just waiting. Waiting, and planning to shell out extra money for the second practice session, and considering what it would take to wrap my entire home in bubble wrap.