I am now officially a soccer mom.

Yesterday began like any other Saturday, with the kids jumping on us in bed while we pretended they weren't there and wishing them back to sleep.

But it wasn't going to happen because this Saturday was special. This Saturday was soccer Saturday.

While Greg got him dressed, Jackson asked him with such sincerity "Dad, are we going to play in some kind of stadium?" Oh boy, this kid was in for a world of disappointment. All week he's been asking when he's going to play on TV. I guess the World Cup has given him a skewed idea of the soccer scene.

"Do you think that my face is going to be up on the big screen?" he also asked. Oh no, the dinky soccer fields with the portable nets were going to seem pitiful to what he had envisioned in his mind.

So we got him all dressed and drove to the soccer fields. We found his team (in Kelly Green) and they started practice (30 minutes of practice followed by a 30 minute game). It was clear that Jackson was not only aggressive, but actually... pretty good.

His coach kept calling Jackson "David Beckham" because Jackson had insisted on a mohawk that morning.



Once the game began I flipped on the camera to catch three goals in a row ... for the other team. I turned off the camera so as not to catch the carnage. I guess in "little nipper" soccer they don't keep score, but of course we were, and we were losing bad.

So Jackson got right in the middle of action to take matters into his own...feet, and scored right away. For the other team.

Mental note #1: Teach Jackson that each team has a goal on the opposite side.



As the game progressed, the bunchball was moving slowly up the field towards our goal, but Jackson struggled to get the ball out of the mass of kids into the goal. So naturally he grabbed the ball with his hands, placed it in front of the goal and kicked it in. Twice.

Mental note #2: Remind Jackson that soccer is a feet-only sport and that goals may NOT be acquired by any means necessary.


After a quick talking to, Jackson seemed to understand the rules and kicked the ball for a kick off, dribbled straight down the field and kicked it right into the goal. All legitimately. It was AWESOME! After that he self proclaimed himself the forward and kicked each kick off from then on. I'm sure the other parents were angered by his audacity.



But we were still getting killed. Even with Jackson's 4 goals (one for the other team, two handballs, and one legit) we were still down by more than double that. One kid on the opposing team was good. I mean really good, and scored goal after goal. So during a water break Greg said "Jackson, you've got to stop that guy from kicking it in the goal."

So he did. By tackling him. Twice. I don't know if Greg was more embarassed or more proud that his son was such a budding football star even on the soccer field.

Mental note #3: Teach Jackson that while a viable use of your body in football, tackling is considered bullying in peewee soccer.

But the goals against us did not stop. So Jackson took it a step further. He sacrificed his body amidst a swarm of size 10 cleats by throwing his own body on the ball to keep it from getting kicked into the goal.

Mental note #4: Teach Jackson that shin guards are to protect our lower extremities from getting the brunt of 4 year old kicks. There is nothing to to protect your head in soccer, so lets keep it away from the ball.

So I think the game ended up being something like 12 to 3 (but who's keeping score?). But Jackson had the best time of his life and cannot WAIT to get back at it next week.

Something about just sitting in a folding chair at the soccer field felt so comfortable, just the way I spent every Saturday of every fall of my childhood.



No wonder being a "soccer mom" has such a cool stigma. It is cool right?