Ode to a soccer ball


Of all the sports there are I’ve always warmed to soccer. As the least sporty kid around, even I didn’t mind playing soccer. My dad even coached our primary school team once.

Lots of things about being a Mama have stretched me. I’ve had to relax in to a lot of things and quashed my inner control freak … Hello painting with toddlers! Other things still have forced me out of my comfort zone and in to, literally, the outdoors. Mr 2 especially loves being outside and he has naturally taken to ball sports. I play outside a lot more than I would be naturally drawn to doing on my own. They are much better for it too.

My boys have an interesting relationship. They’re both incredibly strong of mind. Mr 2 especially has been blessed with oodles of strong will and cannot be forced to do anything. Mr 5 is more malleable but he frustrates easily. Because of this they often argue….sometimes I’m convinced screaming is the soundtrack to my life. I try not to interfere with their dynamic too much….unless it comes to fisticuffs.

Last week though, after school, I set up the soccer goals as I cooked their dinner. I left them to it and kept an eye on them from the kitchen window. And they played. Really, really played. Mr 5 tried to show Mr 2 how to dribble the ball – a skill I didn’t even know he had. And Mr 2 tried to copy. There were shrieks of laughter, shouts of, “red card”, goals scored and screaming of the happiest variety. They played together for 40 minutes. Then, they screamed unhappily as I beckoned them in for dinner.

Thank you Mr Soccer Ball. You will forever be in my heart.

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