Clavicle girl did her first soccer practice since her injury today. Half of it; she skipped the scrimmage at the end in case it was too rough. She's still a little hesitant -- a big bang or a fall can make her collarbone really hurt. But she was happy to be back doing a bit of soccer.
Her team is made up of 5- to 7-year-olds and she's the second-youngest. Maybe it's because most of the other kids are at school all day, but gosh, 3:15 rolls around and it's soccer time and you'd think they'd be happy to run and kick and shriek with their awesome coaches. But no, they are standing there with bottom lips stuck out and arms crossed, or crying because they don't get to be partnered with Liam, or yelling angrily at each other because someone else kicked the ball past them rather than to them, or stomping off the field because they had to line up.
And then there's my tyke. I am blessed with children who are absolute dreams in group activities and classroom situations. She's always cheerful, always on-task, always paying attention to instructions, and willing to roll with things when they get weird. She explained today's practice to me, with giggles:
"All the kids were fighting. And yelling at each other and getting mad. And I was just standing there, waiting, with my foot on the ball. And they were all mad and fighty. I waited and waited, just standing there with my foot on a ball. And finally I got my turn to do the passing drill. I was waiting, like, forever!"
She still likes soccer. It's worth waiting through the fightyness.