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Spin on Boy!

This fall, Asher joined the billion of other kids who play soccer. Does this make me a soccer mom? Ugh, I hope not. Anyway, both he and I have learned many things this season, and surprisingly, how to play soccer isn't one of them.

The first two games, Reni and I groaned as he paused in the middle of the field to show off his handstands and cartwheels. During the breaks, we barked tips and ideas to him.
"Keep focused!" Watch the ball!" "Stop doing cartwheels!" blah blah blah.

In the middle of his third game, Asher reached out his arms and started running in big circles pretending he was an airplane. He turned his face to the sun and closed his eyes half-way (or maybe all the way, we couldn't tell). He had a huge crazy smile on his face. Reni and I were yelling to him, "Asher, stop spinning and watch the ball!" Asher, watch the ball!" But he couldn't hear us. He was in his own little world. I looked down and noticed Ryder had the same crazy grin on his face, and was shouting, "Go Asher!" Go Asher! Go!" Never was a little brother so proud of his big brother.

None of the kids on the field even noticed Asher's little show. The adults sitting next to us noticed though, and were making comments and laughing. Just when it seemed like Asher would never stop spinning, he ran into another player and fell down. That stopped the spinning and snapped him back to reality, well, his version of reality, but didn't kill his enthusiasm.

At the next break, I was all prepared to give him a speech about not spinning. As he stood next to me, grinning from ear to ear, I began...

"Asher I need to talk to you"
"Okay Momma."
"Asher (long pause) you're doing a great job. Keep it up!"

Bing! In the middle of my sentence, I realized my stupidity. Who cares if his team didn't win? Who cares if people were laughing. Here was my boy having a moment of pure joy. Who am I to deny him that? He wasn't hurting anyone. His teammates weren't offended. They weren't even keeping score. He was experiencing the amazing, wonderfulness of being a 5-year old boy. And unbeknownst to him, was being a shining example to his little brother and all the boring adults on the sidelines.

The remaining games were much more enjoyable to watch. We would see some of the other parents berating their boys for not playing the way they thought they should, and smile at each other and say, "Remember when we were like that?"

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