Almost every picture I have from last season looks like this one (from this season.)  The coach is positioning Evan and reminding him that he is, in fact, playing soccer. 

This year, things are looking up.  I even have some shots like these:

PLEASE NOTE: Every child playing is at least one, if not TWO, heads taller than Evan, who is in the proud 25% for his age group...   

Ah, but before you feel sorry for him, ask yourself this: who- has- the ball? 

Tiny Tim! That's who!  And right here it looks like he's about to lose control of it, right... right??? 

Wrong! 

Make the tall kids run, boy, make 'em RUN! 

(Selective evolution, my rear.  We short people can breed some real keepers, too.)

Gotta love him. 

He didn't score, no.  But look where all his teammates are... BEHIND him.  No one to pass to, no one defending him.  Who do they think he is, RUDY? 

Well now Rudy's on the bench.  But everybody's gotta do a little bench time.  Keeps 'em humble. 

See that water bottle of ours?  That was the last time I ever saw it. We left it there- went back the next morning- gone.

So anyway, while he's on the bench, let's check on the other kids.

What, pray tell, has Madalyn been doing this whole time...

I have no idea.  What IS she doing?  Snow-skiing, maybe? 

And where's Jack?

Trying to push his stroller into the parking lot, have you read this blog before?  (Because if you have, you already knew that answer.)

The sheer JOY there is to be had in an umbrella stroller that matches my clothes!

He thinks he's sitting in the stroller... has no idea he's on the foot strap.  I'm not telling him! Are you kidding?  He's happy, isn't he? 

Sort of.   

Anyway, let's get back to the star of the show because I have even more exciting, aggressive shots, check it out:

Hmm.  It's getting darker outside.  Maybe THAT'S why these two going after the ball can't see they're on the SAME TEAM.

Nonetheless- GET IT EVAN, don't let BATMAN BOY take your ball!  I scream in my head- because- he's little.  (He's Rudy, remember?)  Everybody cheers for Rudy. 

Blondie tries to make a go at it and look at him- NO!  (Arms in.)  This is where he draws the line.  Nobody's takin' HIS BALL.

You got it, you got it, boy...

Nope.  You don't got it.  You lost it... to Batman Boy, aka TEAM MATE.  Now that's just wrong.

Uh oh.  I hear calamity behind me...

Car crash.

Classic Madalyn; leaving the scene of an accident.  Stepping right over it, right over her brother's head.

'Oh, huh. Maybe my brother needs a helping hand as he's stuck under a heavy piece of machinery.  Nah...  Dad'll get him.'

Justice has been restored in the land. 

 

Well maybe not for her.  For her, justice would be letting her out on the field to play; show 'em what she's made of. 

The coach said hi to her last practice and instead of saying hi back she, as if she'd been waiting for someone to acknowledge her existence, spouted off: "next year I'm going to play soccer and I'm going to kick that ball in there."  Show the rest of those toddlers how it's done.

But for now, I'll roll in the grass.  

That's all there is for us three year olds.  Rolling in the grass.

So I might as well perfect it, if that's all there is for me here. 

Do I look like an antelope by a water hole in Africa, because I feel that graceful and free right now- really, I think I have this down.

 

Alright, sure.  I'll put on a happy face if you're gonna pay me some attention. 

I knew it.  You're already going to watch Evan play... on the field... where I should be playing.  Fine.  Leave. 

Uh oh.  Jack must've been plucked from the parking lot again, I hear crying...  

   

  

Oh come on, stop gasping.  This is not child abuse.  This is how we get him to stop crying.

For real.  I promise.

See?  Look at his face.  I told you.

Then a little of this...

And a little of that...

And...

All better.     

This always helps, too. 

Are you feeling dizzy from all the scrolling yet?  Yeah, this is pretty much how I feel at every practice and every game.  It's like ping pong for the brain.  I spot Jack...

 

then Madalyn...

(still no idea what she's doing...)

then look for Tiny Tim...

then back to Jack again. 

One, two, three, it goes... one, two... I only have three, right?  

One.

Two. 

Three.

(And we even do this onetwothree scanning madness when there are two of us around to do it, Shaun and me, because we need back up- in case we start acting, you know, human or something, and miss one of the check points.)  When there aren't two of us, when there is no backup, well, at some point a stranger usually shows up with one of our kids in tow and we act all shocked and everything, (even though we're not because one was bound to end up missing with no backup.)

Now, I would be only telling you part of the truth if I left it here.  I have not yet show the other shots of Evan in action.  The ones in which he is making sound effects and physically demonstrating how machines work, how Tom and Jerry transform into monsters after drinking potions, how Horton hears a Who on a flower, and what the x-ray binoculars will look like that he will invent 12 years from now when he works for Nasa:

Which will look like this.

In case you were wondering.

Sound effects...

gesturing...

who knows what?  

and more sound effects to accompany whatever his brain is thinking.

Because just playing soccer is not enough.  There must be sound effects and gestures and a whole second layer of imagination, theory, and mechanics at work beneath the game itself, I mean, otherwise-

what would he do with his brain?

Or... maybe he just thinks they're playing football.

No.  No, I'm pretty sure he's making something... or transforming...  definitely one of the two.

MEANWHILE...

Madalyn, having perfected the art of rolling in the grass, has moved on to her Kung Fu...

And it was not much longer that the Cheetahs called it a game.  (They lost.)  And made a pile of hands to yell in their 5-year-old voices, "GOOOOOOOOOOO CHEETOS!!"  Because their uniforms ARE orange, and because they have no idea that there's actually a leopard-like animal called a Cheetah. 

No, they think they have the COOLEST NAME EVER because they're named after America's favorite snack food, which pretty much sums up the entire pee wee soccer experience.