Late last fall, my friend Jennifer signed up Sean and her little girl for Soccer Tots and last night was his first time to go.
You might wonder why someone else signed up my child for soccer and the reason is simple. Jennifer is a young and energetic mother and I am not. Jennifer is hip to the mothering scene and knows about this kind of stuff and I do not. Plus, she is tall and I am intimidated by tall people, so I am powerless to say no to her.
Prior to this soccer tots thing, I have not involved Sean in any organized sports. I didn’t know I was supposed to involve my child in involvement type activities. They didn’t mention anything about soccer at the hospital when they handed him over, so how was I to know?
So for the past four years, I have been perfectly happy leading a soccer-free existence and just playing Legos with him at home in the den. Apparently this is bad. A number of other mothers with whom I have shared this information retracted in horror that I would disadvantage my child in such a way! If he ends up in jail, clearly it’s my fault. Exhibit A will feature a picture of me in my pink chenille robe looking like Lindsay Lohan on a bender with the following bullet points:
- Didn’t care enough to sign him up for soccer until he was four.
- Let him play with fungicide and prescription medication.
- Lied to him about ugly rugs.
His only hope is a jury of soccer moms.
Perhaps subconsciously I have been avoiding the organized sports thing and I don’t really know why. I just have the feeling that I am not really soccer mom material. For one thing, I don’t have a minivan.
For another thing, my generation was not driven across town to play with other children. My generation was sent outside to play and told not to come back before dark. We didn’t play soccer. We played with firecrackers and jumped our bikes off of homemade ramps without wearing helmets. Good wholesome activities.
Having said all that, we took Sean to soccer and he had a great time. All the little children ran up and down the field chasing the ball like a little school of clueless gold fish. It was adorable. And he really seemed to enjoy playing with people who do not have AARP subscriptions, so there was that.
He was so happy it nearly made me weep. But not nearly as much as writing out a check for $217 for something that my generation used to do for free.