Last night's soccer match was a success! With the starting whistle, N was on the field like a flash. He ran up and down the field, elbowing his fellow pre-schoolers out of his path. He kicked, he dribbled, he passed (albeit unintentionally). He did not score. Oh well. His one complaint: "Mommy, the other kids aren't sharing!"
J, on the other hand. Oh J.
J did not want to participate at all - much like last week's game. He stood with me on the sidelines as I jumped and cheered like a freaking maniac for my other soccer monster out on the field. He was NOT happy that his twin brother was enjoying himself: "Mommy, N needs to come over and stop playing." I patiently tried to explain that N was having fun and that J should do the same. J was not convinced.
At halftime, N ran over, sweating profusely and very red in the face (yes, those must be my non-athletic genes coming through), ready for a water break. I tried again to convince J to get out there and play and, to my surprise, he agreed. He went out with N and stood with his team for the kick-off to start the second 15-minute half.
The ball dropped.
There was much kicking and pushing in the swarm herd.
Then, out of the pack came J! He had the ball and was kicking it down the field toward the goal, alone in his burst of speed!
He kicked toward the goal and SCORE! J made a goal!
Then J threw himself on the ground and burst into tears.
And that was the end of J's magnificent soccer career. He refused to play again for the rest of the game.
Oh - and by then, my camera batteries were dead.