Immediately upon finishing his after-school chores, Atticus donned his soccer garb, never mind that he had two hours before practice started. Then he yet again attempted to grill me about what he could expect at a soccer practice, because he simply cannot wrap his brain around the thought of someone never playing any sports throughout the entirety of their childhood, which was me, except for a few ugly incidents in P.E. (Dear School Physical Education Classes: The inferno of my hatred for you has not diminished in the slightest over the years. Thanks for the lasting emotional scars; the physical ones did eventually heal. And remind me why boys and girls had to play dodge ball against each other in middle school? Also: Would it have killed you to have culled the girls with anger issues and put them in a separate class and/or The Hunger Games? Hatefully Yours, The Girl with No Hand-Eye Coordination and Poor Depth Perception But a Reasonable Line of Questioning that Was Never Answered to her Satisfaction as to What She Was Supposed to be Learning From Softball Aside From Empathy for Every Other Person Also Picked Last Every Time, aka Me.)
I explained to him that I could talk his ears off about proper ballet technique and jazz choreography and all other manner of fun dance topics, but soccer? No comprendo. I hear tell there's balls involved. I took care of his soccer, um, costume (Probably not the correct lingo. Guess how much I care.)- thank you, last summer's garage sales!- and here ended my involvement, except for showing up at the games, which start next week. I also had to explain yet again that I will have to physically attend the games to watch him, as they will not be televised. This was a heavy blow about a month ago when he first discovered there would be no television crews, no cheerleaders, and no stadium seating- just a semi-muddy field. It is entirely possible I have kept him in the shell over-long.