Soccer

I have officially entered the "soccer mom" category.

We signed Bryce up for pee wee soccer this fall.  He's on a team full of five year old kids from our ward.  Yesterday was his second game, but it was the first time I'd seen him play because he has practice on Thursday nights at the same time I am coaching a volleyball team for the young women in our ward.

I was excited to finally get to watch him play.  He always tells me that he loves soccer and that he's "really good at defense."  When the game started however, Bryce stood firmly planted in one spot.  When the ball came near, he would jump up and down and yell, but never moved from his original location.  

After ten or so minutes of this behavior, I began to really fear he'd put down roots and turned into a Bryce-tree.  I was also afraid that I'd pull my hair out in frustration and thought I might need to walk away from the game.  

Honestly, I really do not care if he's one of the better players on the team or if he makes a goal or blocks a kick or even manages to make contact with the ball when he swings his leg!  But for goodness sake, son! MOVE!

Thankfully, the coach moved him out of "defense" and from then on he ran the field, chased the ball, and looked like a real-life soccer player.  

He had a blast and left the game thoroughly tuckered.  And that, friends, is what it's all about.