September 23, 2010
"I love playing soccer."
This is what my kids tell everyone they meet.
If this is true, they have a funny way of showing it.
Preparing for soccer practice is like shopping with coupons at the grocery store: it takes an inordinate amount of time and it's generally unappreciated.
An hour before soccer practice is scheduled to start, everyone's shin guards mysteriously go missing. Cortlen can't find one of his cleats and it's my fault that Camber cut her own bangs and now they're too short to fit into a ponytail.
Thanks to a series of major and minor miracles, we made it to soccer practice on time today. Everyone got out of the car pretty much on their own, except for one of my boys, who crawled into the back seat and started speaking in tongues.
"What's up dude?" I asked.
"I can't tie my shoes!" he cried.
I told him that it's my job to solve problems of this magnitude.
He sat sullenly, armed crossed over his chest, as I tied the laces. Immediately after I was done, he ripped the shoes off again.
"You didn't tie them tight enough!" he wailed. "You never tie them tight enough! Agh!"
He spent the next five minutes crying foul over my unwillingness to retie them. It was only after his coach penalized his tardiness with two laps around the field that my son remembered how to tie his own shoes.
"This is the worst day of my life!" he cried as he passed me on his first loop.
At the end of his second loop, he stopped in front of my lawn chair.
"Can you please retie my shoes?" he asked politely. "They're too tight."