I'm a Soccer Mom

You know how milestones can sometimes creep up on you, and you're left wondering, "how did I get here, and what happened to where I was?"

Just recently it hit me that I was now a "Soccer Mom". This was quite a shock to my system, as I still occasionally glance in my rear view mirror and wonder why there are kids in the back of my minivan. (Please tell me I'm not the only mother who has progeny amnesia. Perhaps it's subconsciously intentional).
Handyman and I decided that each year the kids could sign up for one extra-curricular activity. We both believe heartily that most kids' lives are too over-scheduled. (Actually, this belief coincides nicely with our mutual cheapness and unwillingness to pay for more than one activity.)
Peter didn't actually play on a league, but learned to play soccer with a group of other kids. They'd kick the ball back and forth to each other (supposedly learning foot-eye coordination, but I didn't notice any marked improvement on my son's ability to kick a moving object) and play a game against the other group of kids. I might add that the other group of kids were much better, usually scoring at least 5 goals to our 1. During one memorable incident, two goals were kicked past my son (who was goal-keeping) while he watched a nearby butterfly flit through the sky.
Focusing on the task at hand is not something Peter is especially good at, unless the task at hand involves being a ferocious 20 foot dinosaur who is drooling like a rabid beast and charging his sister.

Gabe enjoyed watching his big brother play.

After our first season of soccer, I have come to the conclusion that I had better make sure Peter does well in school.
At least Peter seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself and was even more pleased with his "certificate of achievement"!

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