The meaning of spring

Recently, the temperature rose so the afternoons were deliciously balmy and the trees sprouted tender green buds. This all led to the joy of spring, the sweet moment peaking at a final freak snow storm to make us truly appreciate the conclusion of winter. That's not really what I meant. I'm still bitter about the temperature plunge. It was like expecting a kiss, a sweet baby kiss, and getting a nail lined slap. I walked around the house those couple of days muttering profanities in connection with Mother Nature's name. In spite of my overall lack of maturity, spring really means one thing, at least to Drew, the chance to run around and display all the hidden crazy in his pursuit of SOCCER!!!

I'd registered him a month or so previously and after paying an exorbitant fee (seriously, I expected the new uniform to come lined with gold thread) and some confusion about who was coaching, we were ready. I'd taken him to a game and some practices before Numero Uno was able to go to any due to the unpleasantness which is his night schedule right now. Luckily, a game had had to be rescheduled and it was played on a practice night so NU was able to go. We packed up the munchkins, scurried over to the park, and planted ourselves in the grass on the edge of the field. Obviously, NU was not content with this whole sitting on the ground bit and let me know in no uncertain terms that men of his caliber do NOT sit on the ground. Interesting, how men of his caliber lost my fold up chairs on a boys' trip a couple of years ago but I digress.

Warm ups began. The boys were lining up to practice kicks into the goal, facing off with one of their own. Feet pounded and wove, balls tumbled toward the goal and one by one, the line moved forward. Drew, in all of his unmedicated ADHD glory, danced around, waving to me, the girls, talking to the kid behind him, and the line moved. He was up. He ran forward, ball moving, bouncing off his feet, and the goalie moved in, snatching it up after one particularly hard kick. Drew stopped and cocked his head, watching the ball sail back. Now, I missed whatever the goalie said to Drew but I saw him grin, that mischievous, troublesome grin, and he darted forward, unencumbered by a lack of a ball, and lightly kicked the goalie square on the shin guard before running back to the end of the line.

N.U. and I shouted a reprimand at Drew before rolling in the grass to hide our laughter from him but we both noted the undeclared rule: No goal? Kick the goalie.

And on that note, I'm thinking this season will be very interesting and I might need to buy the girls shin guards. Just in case.