Tonight, Little Philip started soccer. It was awesome to see him go for it with such passion and enthusiasm, high-fiving his friends, kicking that ball and stopping it with his little foot, head butting, blocking kicks, and making goals. Of course, this is not what happened.
Instead, he eyed the playground in between the two large soccer fields and cried most of the hour begging to go play on the playground instead. He stuck with the coach's instruction and activities for about ten minutes and then sobbed on the sideline with us since we would not let him go to the playground. As we left the fields at the close of the hour session, along with about one thousand other suburban families in minivans, he sobbed even harder, screaming "I don't want to go home!" Other families just marveled at the extreme dedication our son had to his first taste of the game. We decided to simply let them think that was what the crying was about.
There was this one moment of commitment from him that I caught on video.
Truly the highlight of the night was the hilarious scene of the coach, leading pack of about seven 3-4 year kiddos dribbling in a huge arc until they reach the goal. When the coach said "on your mark, get set, go!" six of the seven took off squealing in glee, bouncing into one another, laughing and having a good time. What happened to the seventh child? That would be our son, who was in his own little world, spinning in circles pointing up and saying "I SEE THE MOON!"
His mom debated in high school and at least his daddy ran track. The point is, he comes by this honestly. We are hanging our hopes on that academic scholarship.