Jack, on the other hand, mainly tasted the sweet flavor of .... snacks. His first, and really only, concern before, during, and after each and every game was what snack they were going to have that day. His Papa even resorted to the not-so-ethical tactic of whispering to Jack, "You know, the ball is filled with snacks and when you kick it really hard, all the snacks will come pouring out." He had Jack going for a minute, but it didn't last. Despite his insistence that he was playing really hard and trying his very best to score a goal, the only time Jack got within five feet of the ball was when the coach asked him to throw it or kick it in to start play or when another player would inadvertantly kick it right to Jack. In that instance, he would look down at the ball as if it were the strangest thing he'd ever seen and an object he had absolutely no idea what to do with until another player would run up and kick it away. Then he would frustratedly complain (as play was still going on) that the other guy had just come and taken the ball away from him (you know, just a second before he was going to return to consciousness and kick it or something). It was painful to see Chris, Mr. Aggressive Soccer Guy, watch his oldest son be completely disinterested in playing well or, you know, making contact with the ball. But he did look cute in his uniform, so all was not lost.
Don't be fooled. He was kicking off after the other team scored, when no one else is around him to compete for the ball. But doesn't he look good doing it?
Naturally, Luke couldn't be left out of the fun. Aspiring soccer star that he is, he assembled his own version of "coccer game, kick ball" at home one day.
Now onto the second reason this was a fun month. Our first-born child turned eight years old this month. I feel like I've fallen into a time warp and zoomed to a point in the distant future when my chubby-cheeked baby girl is an all-too-grown-up young lady who only slightly resembles the curly-headed snuggle bunny I once knew. I am so proud to have her as my daughter and very disturbed that I recently found myself in a roller-skating rink celebrating her birthday. Wasn't it just yesterday that we were having a princess tea party? Ugh! Before I know it, it'll be Sweet Sixteen (which should be called Sick Sixteen for parents who will be worried to death with their kids on the road alone). I just can't bear it!
I do have to say that I laughed harder on this night than I have in a very long time. I'm pretty sure most of the people there were wondering what the thirty-something pregnant lady was doing sitting on the wall alone, laughing so hard that tears were running down her face. I know I'm a cruel, heartless person, but something about watching three second grade girls fall flat on their bottoms about every 2.5 seconds and one tired daddy constantly pulling them back up and trying to get all of them around the rink at the same time just tickled my funny bone. We were there an hour and a half, and I don't think all three of them were on their feet at the same time for more than four seconds. Just when I'd think they were getting the hang of it, whomp! Their feet would fly up and their heads would disappear. As I was giggling uncontrollably, I was also praying that we wouldn't end up in the e.r. with a broken bone that night. Figuring they were exhausted and discouraged, I would ask one of them if they were ready to go and they would answer, "No! This is so fun! I'm getting good at it now." WHOMP. Whatever you say.
Just when you thought I couldn't possibly have anything left to say, I do! We've wrapped up the end of the month with school programs, graduations, and parties. Maddie and Jack are both making significant transitions to new schools in August. Jack has graduated 4K with flying colors, completely able to write his full name, read some basic words, and properly open most of the items in his lunch. I'd say he's ready for "big school." I'm just not sure how he's going to make it through more than one day at a time without an hour-long nap. That boy needs his sleep. And his mama needs his sleep, too.
With second grade completed, she will be going to intermediate school, which is between tiny, cute little kid primary school and scary, puberty-stricken middle school. Intermediate school doesn't freak me out so much as knowing the next big step will be to the dreaded phase of life where zits, hormones, and body odor make their appearance. Oh, heaven help me when that day arrives. We already have so many emotional, tear-filled days of self-absorption, and I don't know how I'll handle anymore.
So, that's our month in a nutshell. We're ending it with a bang, though. First, a late-night visit to the emergency room (which must constitute a post of its own), the verdict on the sex of Bond Baby #4, and a visit from Crazy Uncle Matt and Loveable Aunt Emmy. I know you're hungry for more, but I wouldn't want us to be gluttonous. Tune in soon for a great big helping of blog dessert.