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O joined an indoor soccer team, comprised of a lot of his buddies from his daycare years who live in a different town.
Their first game was Saturday.
I have to admit I’m not the biggest fan of soccer. I played it for exactly one year when I was Owen’s age; I quit because I thought it unfair that the coach – my uncle – made us run* BEFORE our games.
But this year, because O’s wanted to play, I’ve dutifully brought a chair with me to his weekly rec soccer practice/games and sat on the sidelines. I’ve watched him play drills with the other kids and play goalie. I’ve had conversations with him about good sportsmanship when he didn’t want to shake hands at the end of the game. I’ve kept track of the times he’s stopped a goal or scored a goal (exactly one).
I’ve also caught up on WordChums and Words with Friends and my other games during that time. I’ve read blog posts.
Because, really. Those soccer games have been relaxed.
So I was wholly unprepared for the indoor experience: ten minutes of “practice,” then two 25 minute halfs. Real time substitution for the kids, no stopping the game for out of bounds (they can play balls off the wall). The play was constant.
And I got completely swept up in it. It was exciting and fast and really pretty awesome to watch plays develop. It was nervewracking to see the other team get the ball close to the goal, and hope that the goalie – kids I KNEW! – would stop it.
And there was a moment where, when I could see our kids passing the ball, actually mounting an offense, pushing the ball to the net to score, that the thought struck me.
Wait a second!! These kids were BABIES together – like yesterday! They were in the infant room together at daycare.
I swear, that was just YESTERDAY.
Where does the time go?
*Ah, the irony: Yes, I quit soccer because it was too much running.