This March, my nine-year-old daughter started playing soccer for the first time. After watching my son play in the fall, she asked if we could sign her up for the spring season. Turns out, she’s a natural athlete, unafraid to hustle, fall down, and get right back up. Who knew?
Off the field, she’s bouncy, carefree, and super silly. Often times, annoyingly silly. And, deep down, she’s a softy. Starting in her toddler years, I learned that she needed to be hugged and consoled more often than her brother. Sometimes, all I need to do is hug her, without speaking a word, and her meltdowns stop.
After the month-long rec season ended, she was invited to play for a more advanced team, the focus being on building individual skills.
In April, her academy soccer team played in an overnight tournament. The kids and I booked a hotel for two nights and braved the event without my husband (he was a few weeks into a new job after a five-week layoff and couldn’t ask for time off).
Two of the games started at 8 am, ya’ll.
Yay, me! (You heard my sarcasm, right?)
Three minutes into the first game, the opposing team scored three goals. That’s when her coach, who had been standing and shouting, sat down on the bench, leaned forward, rested an elbow on her knee, and cupped her chin in her hand.
To read my entire guest post (sorry for teasing ya), check it out on Soccer Parenting.
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