Miss C, ninth season of soccer, age 8
I don’t have an athletic bone in my body, so it is pleasantly surprising to me that my first-born daughter, Miss C, is not just playing soccer, but excelling at it. The season winds down this weekend and her team is undefeated.
I was always the scrawny girl with wild long hair who was just a wee bit uncoordinated. The only sport I was playing when I was 8 was holy terror dodge ball instigated by sadistic 4th grade boys who looked 14 trying to fatally wound 3rd graders, especially the scrawny ones that they could pick off one by one on the playground.
Miss C is wrapping up her ninth season of soccer. It’s difficult for me to even wrap my brain around that, but she has the trophies proudly displayed in her bedroom to prove it. Nine seasons? Did she start playing IN THE WOMB? No, but she did start playing when she was just 4. Playing soccer at age 4 is really an excuse for parents to take pictures of their kids looking completely adorable running around aimlessly in black soccer shorts and colorful jerseys that swallow them.
It’s funny, well not really, what babies you have still when your kids are 4. You don’t even realize it until you look back at their photos.
Miss C, first season of soccer, age 4