Monday, July 19, 2010
Two of my grandkids are in soccer camp this week. I nearly forgot how long it takes to dress them in their soccer gear. One is a girl, and she's very particular about things like how her shin guard strap bulges out her sock. We have to undo and redo the Velcro closing at least a dozen times until it lies flat enough not to make the top of her sock look "fat." Soccer clothes need to make a fashion statement. Her cleats have pink inserts so her socks had to be pink. We had to settle for red shorts since the pink shorts didn't come in her size. The red shorts have a tie string waistband which must be cinched within a millimeter of cutting off all blood supply to her lower extremities. The first day we discovered that tying the string with a knot made it nearly impossible to untie and this was during a major bathroom emergency. So I discovered a way I could tie it up without a knot. I'm going to patent the method and make millions.
My grandson, on the other hand, likes to dress himself. Normally I would applaud, but he requires at least 45 minutes to pull his socks on over the shin guards. I watch him bunch up the socks, stick his toes in the end, and then try to pull them using the top of the socks only. This leaves a wad of sock around his ankles and an extremely thin stretch of sock for the remainder of his leg. So in frustration he rips it all off and begins again. My offers to help or to teach him are totally rebuffed. This is his battle to win every morning. Eventually he works the sock up and over his ankle, although it is twisted at least 720 degrees around the axis of his leg, and maneuvers it up to his knee. Then the real work begins as he pulls at the sock, moves it around his leg, and then grabs the next level to untwist and so on. And that's just the first sock. When he's finally done and he goes to put his cleats on, I hear him say, "Why doesn't this work?" Before I can stop him, he has pulled the sock off again because it felt too bunched up in his cleat. The process begins again as the clock moves unrelentingly to the time we have to load up and go.
Andrew loves his soccer outfit so much that he has worn it all day, every day, for the past week. Yesterday it was really stormy here and the kids got drenched, so I was able to coerce him out of the clothes and finally wash them. He plans to wear the outfit home on the plane. So does Siobhan, which means a flight attendant will get a first-hand look at my clever tie job. But that's a risk I'll have to take. I'm just happy they love their soccer clothes because I have discovered that's the first step to loving soccer. If the outfit isn't cool, neither is the sport.
The other thing I've rediscovered is how magical a new sport can be. The soccer balls have become trophies that they even take to bed with them. The cleats have super powers to make them run faster as in "Gramma watch how fast I can run." At the end of the first day of camp I was informed by Siobhan that she had made "lots of points." Andrew says he's the best passer in his group. Every day they have stories to tell of their adventures and soccer prowess. Soccer is new, special, and for the moment achievable. I make it a point to reinforce all their beliefs both in soccer and in themselves. They may never end up playing soccer, but I don't want them to dismiss it because their first experience wasn't exciting and fulfilling. For the moment, soccer rules. Now if I could just figure out a way to speed up the preparation process, soccer would rule for me too.