On the movie Girls Just Want to Have Fun, Colonel Glenn says, "A little competition is good for the soul!" I tend to disagree, at least when it comes to mother/daughter scrimmages at soccer practice.
Thursday was Darby’s last practice of the season, so we had a friendly little game between our beautiful, tiny daughters and their saggy, old mothers. During our warm-up, we were supposed to be kicking the ball back and forth with our daughters. That’s when one of the moms decided that she needed to shine. Apparently, this lady thinks she’s Mia Hamm. She wouldn’t kick the ball to her daughter; she was too busy doing fancy little soccer tricks which impressed us all, I’m sure. Finally, in exasperation, her 3 year old threw her arms to the side and said, “Mom, kick me the ball!” It was shaping up to be a very positive experience for our young breed. These psycho moms were out for blood.
So, the game began with the daughters at one end of the field and the mothers at the other. I was wearing a hat and looking down, Eye of the Tiger blasting in my mind. I was pumped.
Suddenly, my 80’s rock fantasy was shattered by a pink and tiny soccer ball which rolled up to my feet. The bill of my hat was blocking out everything else and instinct kicked in. I mean, I had just been mentally rocking out to the greatest pump-up song ever. I kicked the ball and looked up, only to see that my darling daughter was the one who kicked it in my direction. It was tragic and I spent the rest of the game holding Darby’s hand and dragging her to the ball. I even threatened another mom who kicked it away from her.
Darby did great; she scored a goal and everything. She got a trophy. She was cheered on by the crowd as I hoisted her onto my shoulders. None of that kept her from recanting the story to her daddy, saying that I “broke (her) heart” and that I “no love (her) no more.”
You guys, I can’t win for losing.
Have you ever crushed a small child’s dreams? It would make me feel so much better about myself.